


Killing The Fandom

by kasey8473



Series: Friends Found [3]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasey8473/pseuds/kasey8473
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Much to Dean and Sam’s annoyance, Gwen and Jo come face to face with one of the more unusual aspects of their husband’s lives: the book series and fans. Companion piece to ‘Lost and Found’ & ‘Nothing and Everything’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Killing The Fandom" is the third piece in a series. First is "Lost and Found" followed by "Nothing and Everything". It is recommended that they be read in order, otherwise, some plot details may be confusing. These are not stand-alone pieces, but meant to be read in order.

The timer Sam had set went off at the same time Jo cried out, “Crapsticks! Why can’t I win at this game?”

Dean Winchester glanced in the rearview mirror at them, seeing a tiny smirk on Sam’s lips before he covered it up. Jo should know better than to think Sam was going to make it was easy for her to win against him at any card game. He waited for the words he knew Sam was going to say. He should know. Sam had said them every hour on the hour since they’d left the house.

“Pull over, Dean.”

There they were. He glanced askance at Gwen in the front seat beside him. She was reading the Nook she and Jo shared, resting it against the pregnant curve of her belly. Dean had once glanced at the library on the device and shook his head at the differing reading preferences between the two women. Jo read horror and women’s magazines, with the occasional chicklit thrown in, while Gwen preferred true crime and mystery of the grisly sort.

She was nearly eight months along and barely looked it except in the chest. Her cleavage had become rather remarkable in the past couple months. Even he was impressed. “You need to stop,” he asked her.

“I can go another hour,” she replied, not looking up from the screen.

“We’re stopping.” Sam was insistent, tapping Dean on the shoulder and pointing. “There. Pull over there. Gwen needs to walk for five or ten minutes.”

At this rate, it’d be another day before they reached Las Vegas.

Now Gwen looked up, frowning. “Sam, I’m fine. I don’t have to pee and I think I can wait an hour to walk.”

“Long car rides aren’t good for you or the baby. You need to walk, keep the blood flowing.”

Jo snorted. “I went on an even longer car ride when I was pregnant with Jack and I’m fine.”

Sam shifted in the seat. “Well, you’re not my wife.”

“True,” she agreed, “but I’m Dean’s and he was just as fanatical about stopping as you are.”

“I’m not being fanatical,” he argued.

“You are a little.” Jo’s voice was mildly critical. “Lighten up and loosen up or we’ll never get there. We’re two hours behind in our ETA already. All the good slot machines will be taken.”

Dean settled it the only way he could. He pulled into the gas station Sam had indicated. “We’re stopping. Everyone out. Pee, get drinks, snacks, and Gwen? Go walk before Sam has a stroke.”

They needed this. They all needed this. Work, both their real and front jobs, had been hard and busy since the reunion. Heather Holt’s family was a mystery and puzzle and Gwen and Jo still didn’t trust her. Honestly, Dean didn’t either, though he found it amusing that Heather had to be the worst witch he’d ever met. She’d admitted a few times that the only studying she’d done was to find spells for what she wanted. She’d ignored the theory and darker, deeper aspects of the craft. A far cry from Mia, Gwen’s mother. Mia had honed her craft to deadly results for Gwen’s father Aaron and a ton of other people.

He refilled the gas tank, leaned against the Impala, and watched Sam and Gwen walk in circles around the station while Jo went inside and returned with a bag of cheese popcorn and two bottles of water.

She set the popcorn in the car, handed him a bottle and opened the other one. “That brings back memories.” She jerked her chin in Sam and Gwen’s direction.

Whenever they’d driven anywhere, he’d walked with her about every hour or so for the same reason Sam was walking with Gwen. “It does.” He put the bottle in the car and slid an arm around her waist. It also brought back other memories from that trip to Lisa’s house with Ben in tow, specifically, a slip of paper he’d left for Lisa and Ben. “You think Sophie is still hunting?”

“Don’t know. Why?”

He looked down at her. “Sophie and Mick were the names I gave them if they ever had trouble and needed a hunter.”

There was a thoughtful gleam in Jo’s eyes as she contemplated that and she took a sip of water before answering. “We can send a note off to Ben, recommend a few more if you want.”

Ben and Lisa were firmly in the past, but he’d given them Sophie and Mick as contacts on the completely wrong assumption that nothing would happen to them in the near future. Everything had happened. Mick was now dead and Sophie was…. Who knew where she was? She’d left the reunion and disappeared. Now if Ben and Lisa tried to call, they’d get no help at all. He wanted Ben safe. After all this time, he still wanted Ben safe and sound and he realized that Jo understood. “Would you and Gwen take care of it?” She’d liked Ben, too.

“Will do. I’ll do an address search, make sure they’re still there, write up a few recs and send it out the next time Gwen and I are in another state.” She capped the water. “You know, I thought Sam would be a mess over her being pregnant, but he’s been surprisingly rational and calm for the most part.”

She hadn’t heard about Sam’s nightmares then, which meant Sam hadn’t told Gwen about them. Probably didn’t want to worry her, but it wasn’t good that he wasn’t telling Gwen. She needed to know, especially since they were becoming frequent events. He’d been having nightmares that the baby came out with Lucifer ensconced already in him, like Sam had been a conduit and was living Rosemary’s Baby. He’d also had a nightmare that he was an old man trying to stop his son from accepting Lucifer and failed. Both nightmares shook Sam deeply and while he’d been reluctant, he’d admitted the story in each to Dean. “He’s not as calm as you think.”

“Oh?”

“Nightmares.”

It was all the explanation Jo needed. She nodded in acceptance. “Then this vacation will do him good. He can relax and have a good time.”

Exactly what Dean planned to do. “We all can.”

That good time, or the first part anyway, came about a few hours later, almost immediately after check-in to the hotel and a quick inspection of their suite. He and Jo claimed they wanted to unpack before heading to the casino and Sam and Gwen went on without them. Of course unpacking wasn’t exactly what either of them had in mind.

Hours passed.

Dean swept his hand up Jo’s bare side, glad for this vacation they’d taken. It was nice to be able to have some together time without Jack trying to get in the room. Their son was not only an escape artist, but had an instinct that told him when his parents wanted to be alone together. They kept waking up to find he’d gotten out of his room and was either in bed with them or playing on the floor with a toy waiting for them to wake up.

Hi phone rang and he picked it up. It was Sam. “Yeah?” Dean moved onto his back.

“What time did you want to meet for dinner?” Sam’s voice was muffled and Dean could hear the sounds of a crowd and Gwen’s triumphant cry.

Jo rolled over and began pressing kisses to his chest and down his stomach. Her glance up at him was deliciously naughty.

He stretched just a little. “Mind if we just meet up later and skip the dinner together?”

“Why?”

Jo moved lower, added a hand, and his brain quit functioning. “Um…. Uh…. Um….” Dean tried to suck in a breath without sounding like Jo was making him a happy husband at present.

“Dean? You there?”

“We’re on a winning streak,” he gasped out.

There was silence on Sam’s end. “Right…. We’ll just meet you later. Call us.” 

Dean ended the call and dropped the phone onto the bed, concentrating only on Jo -- or rather what Jo was doing.

Yup. He was a very happy husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

While being in Las Vegas didn’t necessarily mean she had to be drinking, Gwen Campbell Winchester would’ve liked at least one frou-frou cocktail. Unfortunately, her condition made it a bad idea.

She was in the middle of her seventh month of pregnancy and had what she considered to be a decent sized baby bump. Dr. Ames had said she was looking good and right where she should be. Of course, Gwen already knew that. She’d actually done the reading. Jo, who’d been twice as big at seven and a half months, maintained that Gwen had the smallest bump ever and kept asking if she was sure she was as far along as she thought. Maybe she’d miscalculated?

She hadn’t miscalculated and her breasts had apparently gotten all of the extra that Jo thought should be in her stomach. Her bra size had gone up by two cups. Sam hadn’t complained and she’d even caught Dean admiring her cleavage a couple times.

In a show of sisterly solidarity, Jo had declared earlier that she wasn’t drinking either, though Gwen didn’t mind if she did. She hardly felt left out of this couples vacation Dean and Sam had proposed after the long mess with the soul stealer. So much had happened in such a short time that they’d needed some sort of downtime. Gwen’s grandparents had been killed, Ellen and Jack targeted by the soul stealer, then the showdown at Jo’s high school reunion.

So many people had died that night. Jo’s high school nemesis had come through unscathed however and now appeared to think they were the best of friends because Jo had saved her life. Sometimes, Jo even took her calls instead of sending them to voicemail, giving non-answers to questions and talking only enough to get Heather to talk about herself. Once, Dean had picked up and told Heather she was going to hell. Heather still thought he was witnessing to her. For a smart woman, she couldn’t seem to connect her demon deal with actually going to hell over it. They continued to work through what had turned out to be a mountain of problems stemming from Heather Holt’s dad, Artie, and as long as Heather paid them, Gwen didn’t see any reason not to continue investigating.

Sam had never forbidden her to work cases, like Dean had tried with Jo, probably because every time he got that look in his eyes, she’d simply say ‘caveman’ and it’d shut him up. Maybe she’d had to say it fifteen or twenty times before he paid attention…. She wasn’t working real jobs from here to the end of the pregnancy, only the front cases and doing paperwork. There was always paperwork of some kind or other.

The soul stealer had been imprisoned once more, but the Trickster -- Teddy, as he claimed his name was -- had gone free, his powers returned in a last ditch effort to keep the soul stealer distracted. Just in case he’d kept Las Vegas as his home, they’d stayed as far away from the hotel he’d used as possible. While Sam was certain they had an understanding now and Teddy wouldn’t come after them, Gwen and the others weren’t so certain. Teddy was a monster and monsters usually couldn’t be trusted.

Sophie had been true to her oath to end Mick’s misery. She’d shot him once in the head and disappeared, leaving the scene about the same time Teddy had. Her phone number no longer worked and Gwen hoped that somehow, somewhere, Sophie had found peace with herself. 

It was nice to relax, just the four of them. Dean and Jo’s son Jack was with Ellen and Bobby for the next few days and the only thing on the agenda was to have fun.

She smoothed her dress down across her stomach and stepped into her flats. Normally, she’d wear heels despite her pregnancy, but Sam was sure an accident would happen if she did. Flats it was. He’d tried to hide his anxiety as the weeks had turned into months, channeling that energy into getting the nursery ready and keeping a vigilant eye on the local news. He wanted to be on top of anything that dared come to Sioux Falls, claiming it was the practical thing to do. However, Gwen knew it wasn’t just that. He was having nightmares and hadn’t told her. She’d been there for one that she thought had been a doozey, yet he claimed he was okay.

Maybe she’d press him about it when they got back home, really sit down and talk it over. Gwen had an idea what was bothering him, namely the vessel issue. Even if it wasn’t a real issue, it needed discussing if it was bothering him.

She turned to the side and gently patted her belly. The baby was starting his evening gymnastics and Gwen smiled. Their son. They were having a boy and she couldn’t wait to welcome him to the world. 

Gwen put on her great-grandmother’s necklace and earrings, a brief pang of sadness inside her at the reminder of Ronnie and Ham. Even after time had passed, she still expected to get an email or call from Ronnie. She missed them both more than she’d thought possible. Jo and Dean had gone to the cabin and swept it for anything suspicious, then cleared out more things only hunters should know about. They’d cleaned the kitchen and brought in a cleaning crew to clean the entire cabin. It was ready now if they needed it.

“You about ready?” Sam put his arms around her and dropped a kiss to her shoulder. She laid his hand on one spot on her belly as their baby kicked. He caressed that spot, smiling. “Feeling him kick never gets old.”

They were having dinner by themselves. Dean and Jo had hit a winning streak in the casino, or so they’d claimed, and couldn’t be pulled away from the slot machines and card tables. From the way their room had looked when Gwen had come back to get dressed up for dinner, she thought it was more that they’d gotten distracted in the hotel room and didn’t want to be pulled away from each other. True or not, Dean and Jo weren’t in the suite now, the door to their room open. They’d meet up with them later. “I’m ready.” Turning, she straightened his tie, smiling. “Don’t you look good enough to eat.”

“Ditto.”

“Mmm….You just might get lucky later,” she promised as they let themselves out of the suite.

~~~~~~~~~~

They hadn’t intended to spend most of the day in their room. Honest. The plan had been to head straight for the casino and try to make living expenses for a month or two.

But then Dean had kissed her and begun doing some really interesting things with his hands, and the afternoon was gone, broken only by Sam’s call. Oh well. It wasn’t like they really needed the money this time. WHC Investigations was doing well enough to be considered profitable and there was always the job they were still doing for Heather.

Jo had been flabbergasted to discover she really did have some things in common with Heather -- and that she sort of liked her a little. When she was away from the group they’d grown up with, she was like a different person entirely, eager to talk at length to Jo about the changes she’d decided to make in her life upon hitting thirty. It was a bunch of self-help crap, but Heather was taking it all seriously, trying to be a better person and make a better life. Jo’s bullshit meter didn’t even go off once during any of their talks, though she’d thought it’d be screaming.

She didn’t think she’d ever trust Heather however. No way Jo was going to trust a witch no matter who she was. So, she listened and let Heather talk, filing away tidbits in case they were ever needed again. When Heather finished up the personal talk, she asked about the case. Each new thing they discovered, each layer of depth to Artie’s involvement in selling cursed objects, had Heather asking ‘what the hell more can there possibly be to uncover?’. There was always more. That was one thing Jo had learned over the years. No matter what a body finds out, there’s always another bomb waiting to explode or shoe to drop.

It was Murphy’s Law or something.

She wondered where the trail Artie had left would lead them and if it was getting time to drop it and tell Heather to leave well enough alone. Somehow, she suspected Heather really did want the full truth about her family and in Jo’s experience, the full truth usually hurt in some way.

Shaking away thoughts of the present, she focused on getting in vacation mode. She was well into vacation mode, riding the groove of it into a nicely mellow mood, when she realized the girl beside her at the slot machines was wearing her pink blouse.

Not merely her blouse, but her blouse, her long blond hair, her total look right down to the boots. It was like looking in a mirror --except for the dark roots that betrayed that the girl wasn’t a natural blond and was in need of a new dye job. 

The girl studied her back, then slowly smiled. “There aren’t many of us, you know. Jo fans. Or Ellen fans, or…any of the women for that matter. I don’t remember your shirt from the books, but the jacket I totally do. I’ve been looking for one with no luck and think I might just make one. I found a pattern I think’ll work. I’m Marissa by the way. Well, when I’m not being Jo. She’s just so much fun, I think I’d rather be her than me, you know?”

Jo fans? Ellen fans? What the hell was she talking about? She looked down at her brown jacket. It was one she tended to forget she had. It had actually been in her mother’s closet, though it hadn’t fit over Ellen’s chest in many years, a thing Ellen had lamented. Before she could formulate some sort of answer, Dean sidled up to her and leaned against the machine. He had that devil-may-care look in his eyes that indicated he was going to try to coax her back to the room and blow off meeting Sam and Gwen.

“Hey, Jo. What would you think if we --”

“Hi Dean,” the girl beside her, Marissa, said in a cringe-worthy, almost lovesick tone.

Dear God, Jo thought. Did I ever sound that obvious?

With an uncomfortable lurch in her stomach, she realized that yes, she’d been that obviously lovesick over Dean once and it was like a mini-hell coming face to face with her own awkward behavior.

Mouth open, Dean flicked his gaze to Marissa, then Jo, then Marissa. That devil-may-care glint faded, his eyes widening with something like panic. “No. No, no, oh hell, no!” He looked all around the room, expression shifting to irritation. “Damn it. This is not happening.”

“What’s wrong,” she replied, only to be irritated herself as Marissa, said it with her.

He cringed at that, pointing a stern finger at Marissa. “Where’s Chuck?” 

“Chuck? Who’s Chuck? I don’t know any Chuck.”

“Then where’s Becky?”

“Are you mad at her?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, don’t be mad at Becks! She worked really hard to put this together. I mean, have you _seen_ the guest line-up yet? We’ve got David Angle, the actor who’s playing Dean in ‘Route 666’ speaking tomorrow morning on his insight into the character. Isn’t that awesome?”

“‘Route 666?’” 

“The killer racist truck? Have you read that one?”

Read? The word, combined with the mention of Chuck and Marissa’s other chatter, rang a bell in Jo’s mind of something she recalled Dean and Sam telling her about. Her lips parted. She had the suspicion that their lives were about to slide into the surreal and decided to just go with it. It was a vacation after all. 

He looked ill, paling and pressing a hand to his stomach. “Chuck is dead,” he mumbled.

“Who’s Chuck,” Marissa asked, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking at Jo. “Do you know who he’s talking about?”

Standing, Jo gathered her things and abandoned the machine, putting an arm around Dean’s waist. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go find Sam and Gwen, then Chuck or this Becky chick. Get some things straightened out.”

Marissa gasped, grinned, and waved a finger at them. “I get it now! Jo-Dean AU! Awesome! You look _so_ good together as them! Like, perfect! You could totally be Jo and Dean! Oh, my God, I’m like in total awe! I once wrote a fic --”

“Right,” Jo interrupted. “Becky?” While Dean had explained about the books and, now that Jo thought about it, about the fans, she hadn’t realized how weird it’d be to meet any of them and hear herself talked about like a fictional character. It was more than slightly off-putting.

“I don’t know. She was at the author table last I saw her.”

“Author table.” Dean sounded like he was strangling -- or about to throw-up. One of the two.

“Yeah. Apparently, she really knows Carver Edlund, like went out with him. That’s like so cool. Have you met him? He autographed my copies and man, he’s a total babe!”

Total babe? Not exactly the words Jo would use to describe Chuck, but to each her own.

“There’s a sign in the lobby. Didn’t you two sign in yet? Make sure they give you your packet. I know two people who had to go back and get theirs already. Not a good sign. Do the sign-in people not get their job is to sign us in and give us our packets? Hello?”

Dean stalked towards the lobby, leaving Jo to trail behind him. Luckily, Marissa had the sense to stay where she was. Jo had noticed a few people dressed in costumes earlier, but it was Las Vegas so she hadn’t thought a thing of it. They found a small sign in the lobby pointing down one hallway. The sign was nearly hidden behind a potted plant and she heard Dean make a noise of approval.

“At least they’re keeping it quiet.” He followed the signs to a room the size of a small gym. It was apparently everything for this convention: sign-in table (that had no one sitting there), author table, vendor room with licensed merchandise…. “Licensed merchandise?” Dean stopped walking, backed up two steps, and stared at a row of six tables. “What the freakin’ hell?”

Jo went to the t-shirts, holding one up in her favorite shade of pink. It had ‘I love Dean’ on it with a fuzzy heart for the word love. “Ooh, I like. How much,” she asked the vendor, a woman who resembled her mom in every way except bust size and she had curly hair.

Dean snatched it from her and dropped it back on the table. “Don’t get friendly with the crazies.”

Other shirts were laid out as well. There was a matching ‘I love Sam’ one, also with the fuzzy heart, and ‘I love Sam and Dean’. She saw one with EDG and one with ESG on the front, the backs displayed on a plastic crate: Extreme Dean Girl or Extreme Sam Girl. Briefly, she thought about getting Gwen the Sam one, though she wouldn’t be able to wear it for awhile. There was a shirt that had ‘The Roadhouse’ on it she might pick up for her mom. Ellen would love the design and since they’d never managed to get around to getting t-shirts made….

On another table were coffee mugs, bumper stickers, Impala key chains, and more.

He grasped her arm and tugged her away.

“I’ll be back,” she told the vendor.

“You will not,” Dean said. “We’re leaving as soon as I kill Chuck.”

They came to the author table. It had a bored young woman there who was filing her nails. To one side was a rack of re-released books. To the other was a rack of new releases. Dean was starting to look like he was going to burst a blood vessel. 

He pressed a hand to his chest. “I can’t breathe. I mean it, Jo. I can’t breathe. I’m sweating….”

“Calm down,” she soothed, picking up a glossy sheet of paper from the table. “Complete your set of ‘Supernatural’ books with the re-released titles and experience the lost adventures of Sam and Dean with these recently released titles.”

He took the paper, then went to the new releases rack, grabbing each one and flipping through them. “Before dad died, before dad died, Roadhouse, Roadhouse, oh geez, really?”

While he was muttering and cursing to himself, Jo glanced at the re-released titles. The titles were certainly provocative. _She’d_ read them. Next, she went to the new rack, gently shoving Dean a little to one side so she could get at the rack. The latest titles were:  Dean Man’s Blood, Devil’s Trap, In My Time of Dying, Everybody Loves a Clown, Simon Said, No Exit, Hunted, Playthings, Born Under a Bad Sign, and Tall Tales. 

Her brows rose. Chuck certainly was prolific. There weren’t many authors that she knew of outside of slim paperback romances that put out so many books so fast. Barbara Cartland came to mind. 

Due to be released soon were: Dead on the Water, Provenance, The Usual Suspects, and All Hell Breaks Loose. The last one was a double volume and was going to be available in a first time ever hardcover addition. The sign for them also noted that e-versions of each novel would be available -- the perfect gift for a Kindle or Nook user.

Jo picked up Born Under a Bad Sign and started to glance through it. Halfway through, she saw her own name and began to read. “Dean?” Using her finger as a bookmark, she waved the book at him.

“What?”

“Are you gonna pay for those,” the bored girl asked, still filing her nails.

He shot her an annoyed glare and put the books back. “I’ll get free copies from my good buddy Carver Edlund. Any idea where old Carver is?” He smiled, though it was less than his usual charming grin.

“He said he had to go to the can.”

“Dean.” Jo smacked him in the arm with the book. “Read this.”

Taking it, he read a few pages, then shoved it on the rack. “Enough is enough. When he upsets my wife….” 

The thing was, she wasn’t upset really. A little weirded out maybe, but not upset.

“How did this happen,” he demanded.

The girl sighed. “Well, he published Dead Man’s Blood and was like caught in the vampire craze. Devil’s Trap was next and when people found out it was an entire series, it exploded.”

“Oh, I wish it all would,” he muttered.

“E-sales have been awesome and then those guys wanted to make that movie out of the one book, and once that started, demand really shot up. He couldn’t have timed it better if he was God himself setting it all up.” She began to buff her nails now. “The books are perfect on Kindle or Nook and we’ve got a sale going right now at our Supernatural web store --”

“Damn it!”

“There’s a web store,” Jo asked, pulling out her phone. “What’s the address?”

Dean clutched at his chest and let out a moan.

“Relax,” she told him. She was mostly kidding. If she was going to get any of the merchandise, she’d just revisit the vendor table before they left.

“I can’t relax. I haven’t killed Chuck yet.”

Putting her phone away, she stepped close to Dean, sliding a comforting hand up and down his back. If Chuck knew what was good for him, he’d see Dean and run.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a surprise to receive an email from the official Carver Edlund website that new books were being released, especially since Becky knew Sam and Dean had threatened Chuck with death if he did. In an effort to further the fandom (because she had no grudge against Chuck’s writing, just against him as a man because he was an idiot for dumping her), she’d run right out and bought several copies of each release, giving them as gifts to everyone she knew. She’d encouraged other fans to do so as well and told everyone she met in the bookstores that Dead Man’s Blood was way better than all that sparkling vampire crap. 

Which it was. Vampires didn’t sparkle. Vampire were monsters, not heroes. They were vicious creatures. In fact, she’d been a one-woman publicity wave, hounding all the local bookstores until they’d started carrying the books.

Becky liked to think that she was partly responsible for making Supernatural the next breakout series that it was turning into. This convention to re-launch the series (though the last books had been coming out over a span of two years) was a dream come true for her. _She_ was completely in charge of the convention, with the illustrious title of ‘convention planner’, and it was all because of Chuck. He’d told everyone that she, Becky Rosen, had to be in charge because she knew the franchise better than anyone. He’d known she’d do it right.

Of course, that didn’t mean they were getting back together. She shouldn’t assume he was regretting letting her go even though it could, maybe, be a little true. Right?

And she was getting paid to put it together! Paid! How awesome was that? Maybe if they kept having these and the fandom kept growing, they could be as big as…as…as…Star Trek! After all, Star Trek had started small. Supernatural was, too. Maybe the movie would do well and they’d make more of the books into movies and turn it into a tv series!

Quickly, she stifled her pleased grin and glanced down at her clipboard. “The room is ready for Mr. Angle? He should be arriving within the next,” she checked her watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“It is, Ms. Rosen.”

‘Ms. Rosen.’ She never got tired of being called that! “And the complimentary gift basket from the convention committee has been placed in his room?” She’d personally put together that basket in appreciation for him actually showing up, double-checking with the head of his fan club on preferred snacks and candy (cinnamon almonds, vanilla yogurt covered raisins, Jelly Belly jellybeans, Kitchen Cooked potato chips that had been hard to find, and Mountain Dew). It was one thing to get him on the guest list, another entirely for him to put in an appearance. She knew he was coming. His bodyguard had called to tell her they’d landed at the airport, were right on schedule, and planned to attend drinks and karaoke at ten. How cool was that?

“Yes.”

“Good.” She had four guys she’d roped into security detail waiting to greet him and felt everything was under control. If only she could keep the sign-in table staffed. The volunteers all had a habit of getting up and wandering off when they felt like it, not to mention Chuck kept disappearing from his table when he was supposed to be signing autographs. How many times did one man have to pee? Did he have a bladder infection or something? Why wouldn’t he just stay put? Why did he keep leaving his table?

With another check of her watch, she hurried to the entrance, arriving just as David Angle and his bodyguard came through the door. The actor, ‘just call me Dave’, was hardly what she’d expected, almost the complete opposite of Dean: soft-spoken, cheerful, and good-natured about the way one guard gushed about liking his work. Not that Dean couldn’t be any of those things. She was sure he could if he had to. Dave was naturally those things, which made it so obvious what a good actor he was that he could portray Dean and be opposite him entirely!

When he was checked in, she asked, “Do you need anything, Dave,” thrilled that she was calling a real actor by name, like they could be friends or something.

He smiled and shouldered his bag. “I think I’m set, Becky, thanks. See you at karaoke?”

He has nice eyes, she reflected. Green, with tiny specks of gold. Pretty, kind eyes…. “Oh no, I don’t do karaoke.” But she would if someone invited her to. She’d totally go if he asked her to. Or if anyone asked her to.

“You should come anyway. Have a drink and watch. I’m sure it’ll be a blast.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maybe she’d go. Maybe they could sit together. Maybe they’d have a drink together. Maybe…. “There’s a packet of information in your room. My number is in it. Let me know if you need anything. I mean that. Anything at all.”

“Sure.” He headed off towards the elevator and Becky decided to do a turn of the casino before heading back to the author table to check on Chuck.

She strolled through the room, noting a few friends at various tables and, as she was about to leave, she saw something that made her feel like her breath had been sucked away.

Not something. Some _one_.

Was that Sam? Sam Winchester? The _real_ Sam?

She looked all around the room and back at the man. It looked like Sam.

Becky’s heartbeat quickened in anticipation of seeing him again. While she’d had a few boyfriends since Chuck (one had been part of a cute group calling themselves the Ghostfacers and had seemed for awhile like a decent prospect), none of them made her feel like she was going to pass out the way Sam did.

She stepped closer, trying to ascertain if it was really him. A few times, she’d mistaken other men for him and was trying to be a bit more careful, especially since she was a mature career woman now.

Who ever would have thought that Becky Rosen could make a career out of planning conventions? It was going to work out this time, she was sure of it. So far, everyone was loving the convention and she still couldn’t believe she’d managed to get David Angle (call me Dave) to come. Too bad Darrin Skosinski hadn’t been able to come. That would’ve really helped her cache as a planner, but she’d take David Angle. Apparently, he was at that point in his career where he was doing any and all publicity he could.

Sam, or the man she thought was him, was standing beside a slim woman with long dark hair. The woman’s short black dress was backless. Leaning down, he turned his head and said something to her.

Becky let out a delighted squeal and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. It was him! Sam Winchester was in the casino!

With quick glances left and right, she forced herself to stop bouncing. Mature career woman, Becky, she told herself. Be mature. You’re older now and he’ll appreciate the show of maturity.

She imagined him turning and seeing her. He’d smile, pleased to see her, and would remember her instantly. He’d come to her, tell her how it was fate they’d met again and how he’d been thinking of her all these years since they’d last met. He’d grasp her arms, draw her to him and….

She fanned one hand at her face.

Calm down, Becky. Just relax and be yourself.

He and the woman laughed, the woman looking up at him. Becky could see that she was pretty and reminded her a little of Sigourney Weaver in her younger days.

No, no, no, she thought. Be descriptive. It’s lazy to compare someone to a well-known face. She’s a brunette, with a strong jaw, a wide, charming grin, and dark eyes….

Though she really couldn’t see what color her eyes were yet. She wasn’t close enough. The woman was totally at ease with him, her expression loving, even flirtatious, and Becky frowned. The spark of jealousy fanned into flame inside her. Who the hell was this woman and why was she making eyes at Sam?

Sam placed his left hand on the woman’s bare back. Becky’s frown deepened. Was that…? No. It couldn’t be. It was. That was a _wedding_ band on his finger. She could see the shine of the gold from where she stood. She watched his fingers caress that bare skin, then raise a little to tangle in her long dark hair, both familiar, affectionate gestures. He knew this woman and knew her well. That gesture, from back to hair, looked like something he’d done a million times.

She felt cold then, while her face felt unbelievably flushed, like she was witnessing some sort of private moment between the two. “Sam,” she called out, half hoping she was imagining it and the man wasn’t him after all. If it was him, maybe the ring was for a case? He was pretending to be married, that was it.

He and the woman both turned at her call and her mouth dropped open. The woman was pregnant, her belly curving out. Sam’s hand rested a moment on that belly, like a protective gesture. It was a little irritating to see that, even pregnant, she looked better in that tiny dress than Becky ever would.

“Becky?” His brows rose. “Is that you?”

“You remember me?” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a question and was elated that he did remember her. Well, at least one part of her fantasy came true.

“You’re not easy to forget,” was his dry response and he put his arm around the woman beside him, his hand curving at her waist. Or rather where her waist would be if she wasn’t pregnant. “Gwen, _honey_ , this is Becky. Becky, this is Gwen. My wife.”

The words had such finality to them. Wife. His wife. Sam’s wife. Sam had a wife. When did Sam get a wife? Becky swallowed hard. No. That wasn’t right. Sam Winchester wasn’t married any more than Dean Winchester was and what was with the baby bump? Why did this woman have a baby bump? Sam wasn’t going to be a father. He couldn’t be. He was still in love with Jess, wasn’t he? And since when did he call any woman ‘honey’?

Gwen took a step forward and held out a hand. “Hi, Becky.”

“No.” She ignored Gwen’s outstretched hand. Why did Gwen have to seem nice? “Married?”

“Married,” Sam confirmed in a gentle, yet firm tone.

Gwen pulled her hand back. She didn’t seem offended that Becky hadn’t taken it, just curious about her. Becky had the impression that Gwen was studying her and figuring out whether or not she was some sort of threat, because any wife of Sam’s had to be a hunter. Had to be. The life he led….

“No,” she repeated, shoving aside that train of thought (because it led to acceptance of that which she refused to accept) and trying to figure it out when this had happened. _How_ had it happened? Sam wasn’t supposed to be married. Nor was his wife supposed to be pregnant. It certainly wasn’t in the books.

“Yes.”

“No.” Her eyes widened.

“Becky. Yes.” His tone was stern.

“It’s not in the books.”

“There’s more to my life than those books.”

“Books,” Gwen asked, looking up at Sam.

“The ‘Supernatural’ ones. Chuck.”

“Oh, those. Right.” While she said it like she knew about them, Becky got the idea that perhaps she didn’t know _all_ about them.

“Sam Winchester isn’t married,” Becky said, not wanting to believe it was true.

Sam sighed. “He is now and has been for over a year.”

Over a year? “It’s not in the books.”

“Actually…it is, just not in the ones that have been published. It’s in the latest manuscripts. You can ask Chuck. He can tell you. Dean and I saw the manuscripts not too long ago.”

“It’s not published, therefore, she doesn’t exist.”

“Of course she exists,” Sam said with an irritated frown. “She’s standing right beside me.”

“No. Uh-uh. Doesn’t exist.”

“Becky.”

Gwen’s lips twitched, but she didn’t say anything, amusement beginning to dance in her eyes, eyes that were dark like Becky had thought they’d be, eyes that showed clearly that she’d been through a few battles of her own and could take whatever was thrown their way. She had her own scars.

That amusement and realization upset Becky and she shook her head several times, stomping a foot. “No. She can’t exist and who is she anyway? How did you meet? How did this happen? It’s not in the books!”

Her resolve to be a mature career woman melted away as she began to argue with Sam Winchester over whether or not the woman beside him existed.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been awhile since they’d had a relaxing vacation. The last one Sam and Gwen had had was their honeymoon. He couldn’t think of the last true vacation Dean and Jo had had. Her reunion was supposed to be like one and had definitely been work and not play. He hoped they were having a good time outside their room in addition to the good time it appeared they’d had _in_ their room. 

Sam lingered at dinner with Gwen, enjoying the chance to sit and talk without having to do anything or be anywhere. They finished off the meal with coffee and a shared dessert -- decaf for Gwen, caffeinated coffee for Sam and a simple piece of cheesecake with strawberries. It amazed him sometimes that they could always find things to talk about.

After dinner, they took a stroll outside, then returned back to the casino, not playing this time, merely observing. Sam looked down at Gwen, enjoying how beautiful and radiant she was. There was a slight flush on her cheeks from their walk and a sparkle of pleasure in her eyes. Being pregnant suited her and she had confided that she loved _being_ pregnant. She was enjoying the entire process. Sam leaned down. “You’re beautiful,” he told her. “Have I said that today?”

He felt almost like he had when they’d first started dating. A little nervous, a little uncertain, and not quite believing that she was his. Occasionally, he even wondered what she saw in him. 

“Sweet talker. You’re already getting laid, you know. No need to pour on the flattery.”

He laughed and she grinned and laughed in return. He touched her back, slid his fingers along the silky skin and then curled some of her hair about one finger. He was about to suggest that they cancel meeting Jo and Dean and go back to the room for some together time when a strangely familiar and slightly grating voice punched through his good mood.

They turned together, Sam recognizing the person behind them in a second.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. It was Becky.

What was she doing here?

Sam wanted to protect Gwen and their baby from her, from all of what Becky being here possibly meant. He’d never really told Gwen all about the books and fandom, just a brief overview like it was nothing. That had been an error now, he saw. He should have disclosed everything like Dean had to Jo and warned her about his number one fan Becky.

He tried to be calm, remembering what she was like, and be polite. He introduced Gwen to her, using an endearment to communicate to Gwen the seriousness of the situation. He soon found his blood pressure rising. He could feel it happening, that slide into anger, a sensation he’d never wanted to feel ever again. By contrast, Gwen looked as cool as could be. How could she be calm while Becky insisted she didn’t exist and that she wasn’t pregnant? She both existed and was pregnant and Becky had just ignored her altogether after that first glance.

How dare Becky ignore his wife! Who did Becky think she was anyway?

A determination to get Becky to acknowledge Gwen slid through him. It would happen. He’d make it happen if he had to throttle her to get it to happen. As he argued, back and forth and back and forth over and over, he noticed people approaching, some wearing what looked like costumes.

Costumes.

No. No, no, oh no. The last time he’d seen costumes like that…. This was the worst possible scenario. They had to wrap this up, find Dean and Jo, and leave the hotel as soon as possible.

He squeezed his hands into fists and took a deep, calming breath. “She exists,” he told Becky. “She’s pregnant and she exists.”

“What’s going on,” one person asked.

“AU scenario,” someone else guessed.

“She doesn’t,” Becky insisted.

“She’s right here on my right. Look at her, Becky. My wife is here and she’s almost eight months pregnant. _Eight months_.”

“Definitely AU scenario,” another person said with a knowing tone. “Pretend Sam, married with a pregnant wife.”

“Which opens an interesting discussion,” another person began. “How did Sam get to the point of wanting a wife, let alone a child? After losing Jess….”

He tried to ignore the conversation and focus on making Becky admit that Gwen was there, alive and pregnant, aware that they were beginning to draw a crowd and that was hardly what he wanted.

But he couldn’t stop arguing with her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marissa wouldn’t leave her alone.

Jo gritted her teeth and once more peered around the room, hoping to see Chuck approaching. How long did it take to pee? Had he snuck out of the hotel or something?

“Where did you get your jacket?” Marissa reached out and touched Jo’s arm, yet seemed oblivious to the physical rebuke of Jo smacking her hand away. “It’s like so cool and perfect. I _adore_ your shirt, too.”

Dean had gone back to flipping through the books and muttering to himself while they waited. Jo kept an eye on him. He was working himself up into a huge panic attack and she wasn’t sure how to stop it aside from physically dragging him from the hotel.

“Do you shop at thrift stores? I tried going to Goodwill, but the clothes all had this _smell_ to them, you know? Like mothballs, fabric softener, and body odor. It was gross.”

She wondered if Sam and Gwen had run into any of this yet and checked her phone. No messages or missed calls, though she did have a couple spam emails waiting in her inbox.

“I love how in-character you are, Jo. What’s your real name? Can I call you that or --”

“Jo is fine,” she told her. “I prefer it.”

“Wow, you are _so_ cool! Are you an actress? You’d be a good actress the way you never break character. Most people I know break character all the time, but you’re like an artist, a real, true artist.” She gestured to Dean. “Is that your boyfriend in real life?”

“Husband.” Raising her left hand, she flashed her wedding band and engagement ring.

“Beautiful ring,” Marissa gushed. “It’s awesome you’re like in the same fandom and all. I have a friend who’s into Star Wars and her husband is into Battlestar Galactica. They never get to coordinate costumes or anything.”

“Really.”

“But you guys do and that’s so sweet! You know, you’re so in-character, people are really referring to you as Jo and Dean.” 

Interesting feat since they’d barely seen anyone. She thought perhaps it was Marissa who was going to do that.

“My boyfriend thinks I’m nuts. He doesn’t get the whole LARP thing.”

“Poor guy.”

“I know. He won’t even read the books. Which one is your favorite? I mean the ones with Jo. I like No Exit. Her first real hunt, but Born Under a Bad Sign is a close second because you get the real sense that she’s just getting by and is all disillusioned and ready to call it quits and go home. Also that she really knew Dean wasn’t going to call her even though he promised he would. She knew him and that’s, like, proof to me that they’re meant to be.”

Poor Marissa was going to be disappointed if Chuck published the part where she and Ellen died. At that time, it certainly hadn’t looked like there was any ‘meant to be’ going to happen.

“Don’t you agree? They’re totally meant to be. Jo, like, understands Dean the way no other woman can. She grew up in the life and lived the life and knows about it.”

Jo tuned her out for awhile and when she saw Chuck returning, she interrupted whatever Marissa was saying. “I have to go.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll find you later!” Marissa turned and left the room.

Chuck approached, his steps slowing when he saw them. “Um…. Dean, Jo.” He glanced around and came closer. “What…what’re you doing here?”

“I’m going to kill you, Chuck,” Dean promised, shoving books back on the rack in the wrong places.

“Becky didn’t text you or call you this time, did she? I made her promise not to bother you. I stressed the importance of letting you live your lives in peace.”

“Oh no. No calls, no texts. It would’ve been nice to get either since then Sam and I, and our wives, could’ve postponed our vacation here, to this hotel, for another week. You see my wife standing here, Chuck? Gwen is here, too. You know, Gwen who’s _pregnant_? With Sam’s baby? Becky is running around. Sam’s obsessive fan Becky who won’t take kindly to learning he’s got a wife and baby on the way. I see a problem with that, don’t you? And as it stands, we’re staying on the eighteenth floor of the hotel the ‘Supernatural’ convention is going on in. Why is there a convention, Chuck? Answer me that. Why is there another convention with fruitcakes running around dressed as us and a vendor table with licensed merchandise? Licensed merchandise?” Dean’s breaths were getting more and more wheezy as he spoke and Jo moved to stand beside him.

She thought maybe it was a good thing most of the people had cleared out of the room, probably in search of late dinners.

Chuck raised his hands. “Don’t be mad, Dean.”

“I’m having a heart attack,” Dean gasped out. “This is a heart attack. I’m having a heart attack, are you happy? It’s a heart attack!”

Jo smoothed a hand along his back. “It’s not a heart attack, sweetheart. It’s a panic attack,” she corrected. He should know what one felt like by now.

He gulped in a breath. “Like that’s so much better.”

“Actually it is. Breathe.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“In. Out. In. Out.”

“That’s not breathing, that’s….” He continued gulping and blowing out the air he’d gulped in. “That’s describing sex.”

“Not if you’re going for publication, it’s not,” Chuck said.

“Killing you,” Dean choked out.

“They offered me an obscene amount of money and I…sort of needed it.”

“You always need money. I told you last time. _Sam_ told you.”

“Yeah, I know….” His shoulders shifted guiltily. “I mean really obscene, Dean. I couldn’t turn it down again.”

“And why are there women dressed as Jo? And Ellen? Wanna tell me that?” He already knew. He’d about had an apoplectic fit at finding out.

“I…may have published a few books set in the middle of the published series.”

“May have?” Dean made a spasmodic gesture at the rack by the table. “ _May have_?  Everybody Loves a Clown? Where readers meet Ellen and Jo and Jo punches Dean. No Exit? Where Jo runs off after Dean and Sam on a hunt and discovers what pee your pants terror really is. Born Under a Bad Sign? Where Meg freakin’ possesses Sam, goes after Jo and then Dean promises to call Jo and never does? Do you know how long it took me to live down not calling her? My wife is scarred, Chuck.”

Not really. She’d forgiven Dean for not calling, had worked through the issues she and her mom had, and actually remembered punching Dean with some sort of fondness. What a way to begin a relationship, a punch that had been mirrored when he and Sam had kidnapped her while she had no real memories of them. But it was all in the past now. Jo crossed her arms. She was amused by this whole fandom thing more than anything at present.

Except for Marissa. Marissa was annoying.

While Dean had muttered on and on about the books and skimmed them, Jo had talked to the girl at the table -- Maggie Martin -- until Marissa had shown up. She’d gushed about how the fandom was taking off and gathering more interest from real authors. Funny how no one considered Chuck a real author when he’d published an entire series of books. Jo’d thought that publishing was what made an author an author.

“Fans are liking the Roadhouse storyline,” Chuck said with a shrug. “That was a complete surprise to me. I mean, honestly and no offense to you, Jo, but Jo as a character was a little immature and snotty.”

“No offense taken,” she told him. “I cringe at my own behavior from back then.”

“When I think about it, they might like it because they’re glad for any story right now. See, it’s all about the back story, Dean.”

“I’ll…make… _you_ …a back story!” The threat didn’t make any sense. “We told you no new stories.”

“Technically, those aren’t actually new. I’m just publishing the ones I’d set aside. It’s okay. He said it was.”

It sounded so reasonable, but Dean wasn’t in the mood for reasonable. Jo glanced to their left and saw Sam and Gwen coming towards them, the glare on Sam’s face murderous, while Gwen looked mildly amused.

Jo crossed her arms and waited for the real fireworks to start. A part of Jo almost wished she had some popcorn to munch on. This promised to be somewhat entertaining.


	3. Chapter 3

“Chuck,” Sam called out before Dean could question who’d told Chuck it’d be okay. As they drew up to them, he added, “want to die here or go somewhere private?”

“What’s wrong?” Chuck’s question produced a disbelieving stare from Dean.

“Look around. Plenty wrong.” Dean’s hands closed into tight fists.

“Becky,” was Sam’s short, terse answer.

Dean began to wheeze, taking a few steps back and leaning against the table. He started muttering under his breath again.

“What about her? She did a great job organizing this re-launch convention even though we’re, you know, ex and all. I felt bad for dumping her like I did and since she just got a job organizing conventions, I told them to let her have the job. I think she thinks we’re getting back together, though. Keeps hovering and texting me.”

“She says my beautiful, pregnant wife can’t exist because she’s not in the published books.”

“Oh.” He nodded, thoughtful. “Yeah, it’d be a shock for her. I hadn’t thought of that before. I never mentioned the rest of the Campbells to her so she wouldn’t have any idea about Gwen at all. Come to think of it, she wouldn’t know about Jo and Ellen dying in the apocalypse or even the angel civil war --”

“Commencing with killing you now.” Dean reached for him.

Chuck wisely stepped behind Jo, putting her between him and both angry Winchesters. “Come on, Dean! I haven’t published anything after you went to hell. You never said I couldn’t publish the stories I’d left out of the series up to that point.”

“Is that true,” Jo asked, not exactly relishing being Chuck’s hiding place.

“It was implied he couldn’t publish anything new.” Sam stepped beside Dean. “ _Anything_. That includes stories set in the existing series. In fact, I remember saying no more books at all. We do have guns, Chuck. Guns that are with us.”

Gwen added her support to Chuck, moving to stand by Jo, thereby giving him more cover. “But if you didn’t specify, it could be taken with his interpretation.”

“We said no books. How can he get that interpretation from that?”

Chuck cleared his throat. “Look, guys, people are tired of chick lit horror and that urban fantasy horror stuff. They want real, gritty horror now and characters they can relate to and that’s you. You two and Bobby, Ellen, Jo…. Jo has quite a following among teen girls, I’ve heard. Becky could tell you the numbers.”

“Wonderful.” She tried not to roll her eyes. Being popular among teen girls was just what she needed.

“And men like Ellen. She’s tough and sassy.”

“That she is,” Gwen agreed.

“People want scary monsters and what you guys fight are scary. Do you have any idea how many letters and emails I’m getting from _real_ authors?”

Even Chuck didn’t consider himself a real author and Jo found that sort of sad. His words weren’t a way to diffuse either Winchester, but he went on, seemingly unfazed by the darkening frowns turned his way.

“I got a note from Stephen King, Dean. Stephen King. That’s like totally awesome! He encouraged me to keep writing my dream. He actually wrote that. He wrote that I should ‘keep writing my dream’. Did you see the rec he wrote for Born Under A Bad Sign? Stephen King wrote a rec for my book! I never thought that would happen.”

That was sort of cool in Jo’s opinion.

“I’d stop talking,” Gwen advised him. “That vein throbbing in Sam’s temple is never a good sign.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chuck sighed. “I’ve written what happens after that vein starts throbbing.”

“Not to mention Dean’s liable to punch you any second,” Jo added, ready to dive for the floor if that looked to be a possibility.

“Clive Barker said I’m reviving true horror, though there’s this one author, she writes books about a vampire killer, she keeps insisting my vampires are a blatant copy of hers and that she paved the way for my series because of her female vampire hunter.” He snorted. “Because two brothers hunting all sorts of monsters is such a clear copy of her slutty vampire hunter Mary Sue who’s screwing her way through every character ever introduced in that series.”

“Your vampires?” Jo glanced at him.

“You know what I mean.” He licked his lips. “I got invited to a real horror writers convention, guys. I even got invited to be on a panel.”

“How nice for you.” Sam’s lips tightened and as he turned his attention to the room itself, Jo knew he was checking the room for problems should they choose to drag Chuck off bodily.

“When you wouldn’t let me publish the stuff after Dean went to hell, I turned them down. I did! I swear! They pursued me, throwing more and more money at me. Finally, after considering what you’d said to me, I negotiated to just add to the existing storyline with the excuse that it really needed to be fleshed out before we could adequately delve into Dean’s hell aftermath and the attempt to stop the apocalypse storyline. One key story was Abandon All Hope and in order for Ellen and Jo’s deaths to have any real impact on readers, I had to have Jo and Ellen established in the background, which I didn’t have. They agreed, it was essential to have the background laid out and loved the idea. I didn’t think you’d be upset. It’s just fleshing out what was already there, adding depth to the world. It all takes place in-between stories already published. What’s the harm in it? It’s not really new stuff. It was years ago for you.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Gwen crossed her arms. Her cleavage threatened to spill over the top of her dress.

“But _He_ said it was okay,” he protested, beginning to look a little afraid of the way Dean and Sam were glaring at him.

A young blond woman hurried up to them. Jo saw Sam stand up even straighter, Dean roll his eyes, and Gwen purse her lips in an annoyed manner.

“Tell me it’s not true, Chuck,” she demanded.

“Becky, hi….” Chuck sighed and looked around. For a way to escape maybe?

So this was the Becky that had Sam in a tizzy. She didn’t look like too much trouble. Jo decided she could take her by herself if it came to that -- with one hand tied behind her back.

“It’s not true, is it? It can’t be true. Married?”

Chuck stepped out from behind Jo and Gwen, squared his shoulders, and gestured from Dean to Jo. “Dean is too.”

Becky stared at her, wild-eyed. “Who are you? Someone I’ve never heard of either?” Her tone was suspicious and slightly hysterical. “Because I’ve never heard of any ‘Gwen’ and I’ve made a thorough study of each book and published articles in the Wiki. Articles plural.”

There was a Wiki for ‘Supernatural’? “I’m Jo.”

“Jo,” she repeated. “As in _Jo_ Jo? Roadhouse Jo? Joanna Beth Jo? Ellen’s daughter Jo? Jo who punched Dean?”

“That’d be me.”

Becky blinked twice and crossed her arms. “Really, Chuck? Really? Well, at least _this_ one is actually in the books.”

Dean reached for his wallet and opened it to the current picture of Jack he carried around. “This is our son, Jack.” He held it up.

Becky made a noise like she’d been shot. “Married with kids! No, no, no.” Now she shook her head. “My fandom’s being destroyed here. Destroyed!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

Dean nodded and put his wallet away. “Try this: in, out, in, out.” He drew in a breath, “in,” and let one out, “out. Just like that.”

She did the opposite, holding her breath, then gasping. “How did this happen? I mean…. How? Explain it to me! How do Sam and Dean Winchester end up married with kids? It can’t happen. They don’t get married or have kids, Chuck. They do their job and hunt until something big and bad finally gets them in the end, but they don’t settle down and become,” she gulped, “married guys with kids, going to soccer games and parent night at the school. That’s so not romantic.”

Speak for yourself, sister, Jo thought. In her opinion, being married to Dean was romance itself. 

“They don’t become ordinary guys. They’re not ordinary guys, so tell me this isn’t ordinary. Tell me it’s all weird and somehow fits, but how can it fit when they have wives and kids and Dean’s carrying a picture in his wallet like my _dad_ does and all dads do….” She gasped for breath again. “You’re killing the fandom!”

“Oh, the drama,” Gwen said under her breath, barely loud enough for Jo to hear.

“Let me.” Jo held up her hand to get Becky’s attention. “Okay, you knew the apocalypse was headed our way, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, so mom and I --”

“Ellen and Jo.”

“Right. We tried to help Dean and Sam kill Lucifer and we ended up dying.”

“But you’re here now.”

“Yeah. See? Already not normal and ordinary.” 

“Okay. I guess.” Becky crossed her arms and focused a critical stare on Jo.

“There was this bad angel who brought us back in case the apocalypse failed. He’d planned on using us as assassins against Sam and Dean, gave us false memories, and left us for them to find. He died before he could finish his plan.”

“Oh. Okay.” Becky was looking a bit calmer. The red spots on her cheeks were fading.

“Castiel the angel, an ally and friend of theirs, found me while embroiled in an angel civil war. He was trying to keep Raphael from taking over because both Michael and Lucifer fell into the cage and Raphael was the only archangel left. Raphael felt he should be in charge and, trust me, no one really thought that should happen.”

“The archangel Raphael?” Becky’s eyes widened and Jo saw a spark of interest in her eyes.

“The archangel,” she confirmed, sort of getting into this storytelling frame of mind. “Dean and Sam came and found me, kidnapped me, and helped me regain my memories. I started searching for my mom, who was without real memories herself, but hunting with Gwen. Dean and I started seeing each other and one thing led to another. Here we are. Marriage, a baby, and a ton of things in-between.” She elbowed Gwen. “Your turn.”

“Okay. I’ll give this a shot.” She looked at Sam, who was staring up at the ceiling and shaking his head. “Sam went to hell containing Lucifer, Becky. He sacrificed himself --”

Becky didn’t look at Gwen, but let out a tiny, admiring sigh.

Dean made a slashing motion across his throat and Sam winced.

Gwen seemed uncertain as she tried to take the non-verbal direction the two were trying to give her. “Oh, um…he was raised almost immediately after, but came back without a soul. He was a real dick, too, without it, but I kind of liked him anyway. We talked about anything and everything, which helped later.” She uncrossed her arms and patted her belly the same way Jo remembered doing when Jack had been kicking up a storm. Was the baby kicking? “I was raised a Campbell from nearly birth. Campbell was their mother’s maiden name. The branch I was raised in was a little further out than her branch and we never really had any contact. Sam and I thought we were cousins and -- ”

“Cousins,” Becky interrupted with an odd look on her face, like she was suddenly thoughtful by that.

Jo saw Sam, Dean, and Chuck all exchange an alarmed glance.

Gwen either didn’t notice that expression or had decided to ignore it like Becky had been ignoring her, for she continued like Becky hadn’t interrupted. “-- it turned out I was an orphan raised by them and, like with Jo and Dean, it just happened. Here we are. Married with a baby on the way.”

“Wow, you sort of suck at the whole summary thing, Gwen,” Jo murmured.

“Thanks. I think our story needed a little more explanation than yours and Dean’s since she knows who you are already and it’s a long time before I’d be introduced in the…books.”

Becky half raised one hand. “Sam had no soul?”

“His body was raised without it,” Gwen confirmed.

“You poor thing.” She turned her attention to Sam, admiration once more shining in her eyes. 

Dean smacked his forehead with a hand. “Good going, Gwen.”

“What? How else could I have put it?”

“You could’ve downplayed it and talked more about what a dick he was -- and he was a dick. He was a soulless, arrogant, uncompassionate, unfeeling dick that I even contemplated killing while he slept, except he didn’t sleep then. He never slept.”

“Don’t say it, Becky,” Sam warned her.

She said it anyway. “Poor, brave man. Brave, brave hero. Going to hell for all of us and walking around without a soul. Was hell terrible for you, Sam? Was it --”

“I went to hell too, you know,” Dean grumbled. “I went to hell for Sam first. If I hadn’t gone to hell for him, he wouldn’t have been alive to go to hell saving the world and come back soulless….”

Sam, Jo, Gwen, Chuck, and Becky all stared at him.

“That sounded better in my head,” Dean admitted, “though I _did_ go to hell first and what would you think it’s like for anyone, Becky? It’s hell! It’s pain, suffering, and never ending. It’s not fun, it’s not a picnic, and no one in their right mind would ever want to go there.”

She took a step back from him, frowning. “How did Sam get his soul back?”

“Dean made a deal with Death of some sort.” Now Gwen grimaced and rubbed at a spot on her back before heading for one table. She pulled out a chair and sat down, putting her feet up on another chair.

Becky shot a quick glance Gwen’s way, then ‘tsked’. “Dean. Deals again? Really? That’s not a good thing to be your thing, you know.”

“Got that memo, thanks.”

With an assessing gaze and a frown, Becky circled Jo. “You’re prettier than I pictured you.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a hunter still?” Her gaze slid to Gwen and back to Jo. Was she perhaps getting used to the idea of Gwen? “Raised by hunters? A thing the whole Roadhouse storyline hints at?”

“Yes.” Jo nodded. “Mom raised me herself after dad died and Gwen grew up living and breathing that stuff.”

“Living and breathing it. That’s….” She sighed. “John knew Ellen, right?”

“Yes,” was Dean’s cautious reply.

Becky started to smile. “I think I can work with that.”

“Work?” Jo couldn’t figure out what she meant.

“Becky, no.” Sam’s tone held a warning, but the woman was suddenly oblivious.

“What’s she talking about?” Jo frowned. “Work with it?”

“My plot bunnies are going to explode if I don’t get this down,” she muttered and hurried off.

Chuck ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t ask, okay Jo? You don’t want to know. Trust me. I wish I didn’t.”

“Unfortunately,” Dean cleared his throat, “I understand what Chuck’s referring to.” Dean put his hands on his hips. “Look, I think we need to have a more in-depth talk about this. Let’s go up to our room.”

Sam went to Gwen, rubbed her shoulders a moment, and helped her to stand.

Chuck grasped his papers tighter. “I…don’t think so guys. I go up there, I might never be seen again and I happen to like living.”

“We won’t let them kill you,” Gwen told him. She was starting to look tired.

“Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

“Come on, Chuck.” Dean snapped his fingers.

Sam grabbed him by the shirt and began to herd him away.

Jo and Gwen followed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen and Jo sat on the couch on either side of Chuck and watched Dean and Sam pace. The two men kept up a refrain of ‘you upset my wife’ and ‘you’re dead’. When one left off, the other took up the words with an increase in emotion. Gwen slipped her shoes off, tossed one throw pillow on the coffee table and put her feet up. She’d missed the last part of the conversation in the room downstairs, but it didn’t seem like anything important had happened. She’d just really needed to sit down for a minute; She rubbed a hand across her belly and leaned towards Chuck a fraction. “Baby’s kicking. Wanna feel?”

He gulped. “That might make Sam mad and he’s already mad enough.”

“Good point.” 

Jo handed a bottle of water across Chuck to her. “Here. You look tired. Hydrate. Good for you and Junior.”

“Yes, mom.” She took a long drink even though she’d been careful in her water and food consumption. “Sam, I’m not upset. It’s just a little weird is all.”

He didn’t appear to hear her. “Do you know how bad it is for her and the baby if she gets upset? Do you, Chuck?” One hand raked through his already ruffled hair. “Becky upset her. My wife exists. She _does_.”

“It was sort of funny in an odd way,” she said to Chuck and Jo, remembering a couple hours earlier. “Becky kept pretending I didn’t exist and Sam kept trying to get her to acknowledge me. They stood there arguing for like ten minutes over how Sam could be married with a pregnant wife when those books hadn’t been published. Kind of like those stupid ‘if a tree falls in the woods’ questions.”

“At least you didn’t get into a discussion with someone pretending to be you about your life.” Jo had given up not drinking and made herself a stiff drink upon reaching the room. “That girl Marissa has decided I’m a hardcore LARP-er with special insight into Jo…. Into myself,” she corrected and took a swig of her drink. “She’s following me around and keeps asking where I get my clothes. She also wanted to know what method I use to completely immerse myself in the character.”

“They argued for another ten over whether or not the baby even exists based on the previous ten minutes.”

“I am so sorry,” Chuck told her. “Becky’s Sam’s number one fan and she’s a little intense sometimes.”

“No kidding. _Then_ , other convention goers arrived and thought we were having a hypothetical discussion where the books were real and Sam was married with a pregnant wife….”

Jo laughed and waved her drink. “Let me guess. AU right?”

“Yeah. What’s that all about?”

She gestured back and forth between herself and Dean. “AU Jo-Dean right here, my friend. Alternate universe, meaning not in the books, deviating from the established plot. Apparently, we’re so convincing as them…us…that Marissa says word is already getting around for fans to call us Jo and Dean -- like that’s not already our names.”

“Marissa has a big mouth?”

“Hell yeah she does.”

“I’m sorry,” Chuck repeated. “I am. I never expected any of you to be here or stay at the same hotel. Besides, He said it was okay and I thought you guys would be okay with it because He said.”

“Who said,” Dean demanded, finally stopping his pacing. “Was it Cas? Did Castiel tell you --”

“No! I haven’t seen Cas in a long time! It was….” He shook his head. “It was a voice in my head. It said to go ahead and publish all the old manuscripts, but keep leaving out last names and real identifying things.”

“Do the voices answer when you talk to them?” Gwen intended it for a joke, but raised her brows at his answer.

“Sometimes. Not usually, but sometimes. Usually, He doesn’t seem to want conversation.”

“Wait. Do you mean God? Or Death?”

“God. No way Death would bother with me, at least not until it’s time for me to, you know, pass on the mantle permanently.”

“You talk to God and He answers.” Jo took another long drink from her glass and leaned forward, reaching for the bottle to pour more. “Swell.”

“You talk to angels and they answer. Not a much bigger step. A lot of people talk to Him, I just occasionally get an actual verbal answer or instructions.”

“Okay.” Gwen started to get to her feet. “Hey, Dean, Sam. Can you guys pause the rant for a minute? I’ve got to pee again and don’t want to miss anything.”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. “You weren’t even listening, Gwen. You and Jo were talking.”

She gave him a cheeky grin as she passed him. “Yeah, but _now_ I want to listen. Put it on pause.”

As she went in the bathroom, she heard Dean say, “You’re actually waiting? Dude, you’re totally whipped.”

“I am not.”

“Seriously, I think she took your balls in the can with her.”

When she came out, Jo was trying to talk Dean down from his agitated state. “Calm down, sweetheart. It’s just a little fandom thing. I’m sure if we --”

“Little fandom thing? You have no idea what this is like, Jo.”

“I have an idea.” Her tone was defensive. Thinking of Marissa maybe?

Sam put his hands on his hips. “No, I don’t think you do. I’m sorry, Jo, but you can’t understand until it really happens to you. My number one, obsessed fan Becky won’t even acknowledge Gwen. Imagine what that’s like.”

“Wait, what?” Dean held up a hand, stopping his muttering. “She what?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier?” 

“He was mumbling to himself,” Jo supplied.

“Oh. She says Gwen doesn’t exist because those books haven’t been published and therefore, the baby doesn’t exist either.”

Dean sucked in a noisy breath through his nose. “You punch the bitch?”

“He showed remarkable restraint.” Gwen remembered how determined he’d been for Becky to acknowledge her. Truthfully, she’d begun to feel a little irritated herself as the argument had continued.

“Imagine it, Jo.” Sam took a few steps closer. “You’re out somewhere with Dean and some guy comes up to you and insists Dean doesn’t exist. He wants to argue with you about it.”

“Not likely to happen to me.”

“But imagine it?”

She half rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. It’d get old real fast.”

“Thank you. On the plus side, a group of fans observing our argument came to the decision that, with the right sort of woman and under the right sort of circumstances, Sam -- _me_ \--,” he jabbed a finger at himself, “could definitely have a pregnant wife.”

“That’s reassuring,” Jo sat back, fresh drink in hand, “since that is, in fact, the case.”

“I pointed out a few things to aid in that conclusion.” Gwen shifted position, sitting up as straight as she could. The baby seemed to be lodged right under her diaphragm at present and she couldn’t take a deep breath. At least he wasn’t kicking her bladder again. “Like she grew up in the life, knew a lot of his background, and had been hunting on her own for awhile. They liked the idea. A strong, independent female hunter. Kicked them off on a discussion of the women of the series. Becky got really upset by the conclusion.”

“Of course she did.” Dean crossed his arms. “She writes _Wincest_. Do you know what that is, Gwen?”

She flicked a finger back and forth between Sam and Dean. “You two, right?”

“In the together sense,” Sam said with a shudder.

Dean’s nose scrunched up and he also shuddered. “ _Together_ together, Gwen.”

“Does she realize you’re brothers?”

“She knows,” Chuck said in a tone that indicated he himself was grossed out by Becky’s choice of fiction. “She just chooses to ignore that fact.”

“They all choose to ignore a lot of facts,” Dean grumbled. “Like how sucky the life can be. And Becky --”

“Becky has a big ole crush on Sam.” Gwen said it plain. For a grown woman, Becky had been obvious in it. She’d displayed all the signs. “She’s upset right now because she’s not me and that’s her whole problem. Sam’s her ideal and to acknowledge he’s married with a baby on the way might stop her fantasizing.”

“Accurate observation, Gwen.” Chuck glanced at her. “Maybe if I hadn’t dumped her back when I did, she wouldn’t have fixated on Sam again. I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam pointed a stern finger at him. “She has to admit Gwen is real. I want to hear her say Gwen is real and the baby is real _and_ I want her to look at Gwen when she says it.”

“Good luck with getting her out of her room. She’s probably deep in a plot now about Jo being your half-sister.”

“That’s not so bad,” Jo took another sip of her drink. “Half-sister is okay, though my mom and John never, I mean never ever --”

“No, Jo.” Chuck waved a hand. “You don’t understand me. Becky writes Wincest, as in incest only, Sam and Dean together. The only way she’ll ever ‘ship you and Dean is if she can make it a family matter.”

Dean reached for the bottle on the table and took a pull from it. “She’ll probably ‘ship us all together. You, me, and Sam. One big… _happy_ family.” He almost said that with a straight face.

“More than likely,” Chuck agreed. “If I read her expression right, she’s going to branch out now, add you.”

It was Jo’s turn to shudder and she grabbed the papers Chuck had brought to the suite with him, flipping through them and changing the subject. “I want to do karaoke and drinks at ten,” Jo announced, studying what turned out to be a list of events.

“Let me change clothes and I’ll go with you,” Gwen said, a little curious to get a better handle on the whole fandom thing.

“Don’t break the mic this time, Jo,” Dean warned.

Jo rolled her eyes. “I won’t. That was Trickster induced.”

“You _think_ it was the,” he started, then turned to Sam. “Trickster. Teddy. Has to be. This is payback. Can’t be anything else. He’s shoved us into a bizarre world of his making.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’s not real.”

“Has to be him and it’s your fault, Sam.”

“My fault? How is my fault?”

“You’re the one who gave him his powers back.”

“Would you have rather I hadn’t? We sort of needed him right then.”

Gwen went in the room she and Sam shared to change clothes, keeping the door cracked and listening with half an ear to the conversation. What did one wear to karaoke and drinks in the middle of an absurd situation?


	4. Chapter 4

“There he is!” Marissa bounced up and down in her chair.

“Who,” Gwen asked. Marissa had been waiting at the bar doorway for Jo to come down, attaching herself to the two of them as soon as they walked in. In a move as devious as Jo herself sometimes was, Marissa had taken a ‘reserved’ table sign from behind the bar and stuck it on one table. She claimed she’d asked for it, but Gwen didn’t quite believe her. 

So far, this evening had been a study in absurdism. The whole idea of people reading Chuck’s books, thinking it was fiction, and coming to a convention for it where the real Sam and Dean just happened to be as well tickled her sense of humor. Sam and Dean were hating it, but Gwen was trying to keep an open mind. Jo was already starting to lose her open mind about it as the people here in the bar assumed she was LARPing as herself. It didn’t help that Marissa kept telling people to call Jo ‘Jo’ because she was a serious LARPer. Marissa did indeed have a big mouth.

“David Angle. Route 666? Plays Dean?” Her glance was puzzled. “Your husband LARPs as Sam and you don’t know about the movie? Don’t you like the books? You should read the books, support your husband’s fandom. It’s a really good story arc, though I hear Carver Edlund is going to really flesh it all out over the next few books. This movie, it’s, like, a dream come true for true fans. I’m surprised your husband hasn’t been talking about it.”

“Oh, that David Angle.”

The actor that crossed the room was one of the handsomest men Gwen had seen in a long time and she vaguely remembered seeing him in a couple of those bad movies Dean liked.

“He used to be on Lost,” Marissa confided. 

“I never watched that.” She’d never had the time or the interest in the show. Mark and Arlene had both watched it, but she hadn’t. Christian had maintained Mark watched it just for Evangeline Lilly. He’d probably been right.

“Oh. He’s had bit roles on The Vampire Diaries and Grey’s Anatomy and just finished some voice work before landing the role of Dean.” She smiled. “He’s so doable. Look at that strong jaw, the wide shoulders, the firm, muscled arms….”

“He _is_ a ton of pretty,” Gwen agreed. She’d once called Dean’s features delicate for a hunter and David Angle had the right sort of look to play Dean. Maybe she’d pop into David’s panel in the morning and see if Dean got in a fight with him. It was inevitable, in her opinion, that Dean would go to the panel.

“Too bad they couldn’t get Darrin Skosinski, the guy who plays Sam. He’s shooting a movie though, some 80’s slasher movie remake. He wanted to come. I hear he sent a video for us with David.” Marissa sighed. “He’s so approachable. A real guy, you know? Or at least that’s what all the interviewers say about him. David, I mean. Darrin, too, I guess.”

“Sure.” Gwen saw Jo on her way back from the bar holding two drinks the size of fishbowls (both for Jo). She bumped into the actor, scowled and said something to him.

“Did you _see_ his interview? Oh. My. God. He, like, understands the fans and I hear from a friend of a friend who has a friend who’s cousin’s girlfriend’s mother’s best friend saw an advance screening that he has a total, complete understanding of Dean as a character. He, like, _gets_ , him, you know?”

She coughed to smother a laugh. “I’m sure he does.” That clinched it. She was totally going to David’s panel in the morning. It’d be interesting to hear his insight and compare it to what she knew of the real man. Maybe she could convince Jo to go as well.

“So.” Marissa crossed her arms on the table edge and leaned over a little. “What’s your husband’s real name, Gwen?”

Jo joined them and set her drinks down with snockered care. Her cocktails in the room had been large and strong, the consequence being that she no longer gritted her teeth whenever Marissa spoke. “Yeah, Gwen. What’s Sam’s _real_ name?”

A mischievous urge welled up inside her and she chose an alias at random that he used occasionally. “Keith. But don’t call him that when he’s in character. Breaks his concentration.”

Jo shot a questioning glance her way. “You know, just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean he won’t get pissed at you.”

“Of course that’s what it means.” Where was the harm in playing along a little? It wasn’t like any of these people would ever see them again.

“Why? Why won’t he get pissed?” Marissa leaned forward a little. “Did you have trouble getting pregnant and the baby is, like, a miracle?”

Knowing all she knew, miracle was something of the word for it. “Something like that.”

“Gwen.” Jo half laughed and shook her head. “Don’t piss him off right now. Not with all this.”

“What? He won’t stay pissed for long.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I have ways of distracting him.”

Karaoke was fun, though Gwen didn’t sing. She sat back and watched. Jo sang a rendition of ‘Stand By Your Man’ that was slightly slurred, yet heartfelt. Too bad Dean hadn’t come down. He would’ve appreciated that. Directly after her, David Angle sang ‘I Can’t Fight This Feeling’ on request, a song that had most of the women present swooning by the end. His singing voice was far better than Dean’s ever was. The song became a favorite as soon as he left the microphone, men dressed as Dean attempting to sing it and butchering it.

Nearly forty minutes into the event, David approached their table, a drink in hand, and gestured at the empty seat, the only empty chair in the room, Gwen noticed. “May I join you?”

Marissa squealed.

“Sure.” Gwen removed her feet from the chair and sat up.

Jo took hold of her drinks like she thought he might try to steal them. Perhaps Gwen should cut her off after she finished those.

“I’m Dave,” he said, sitting and scooting the chair in.

Marissa squealed again and covered her mouth with her hands.

With a roll of her eyes, Jo made the introductions. “The squee-er is Marissa, I’m Jo, and that’s Gwen.”

“Hey. Good turnout, yeah? Looks like karaoke is a winner.”

“I guess.” Jo sipped one drink, frowned, then stirred it. “Geez. Ash made a better amaretto stone sour than this and his were for shit.”

Gwen noticed Jo still drank it however, bad or not. “The room _is_ packed.” And most of the women present were glaring at their table, though that wasn’t anything new after Marissa’s sign trick. “I suspect it’s not because of karaoke though.”

Dave glanced around, brows raising, a surprised expression on his face. “You might be right.” He quickly turned his attention to his drink and she had the impression that he was actually shy and trying to keep up an appearance. “Been to many conventions like this?”

“Nope.”

“Me either.” Jo sucked on her straw until all the liquid in her glass was gone. That had to be a record. She’d finished it in less than five minutes. 

“Three,” Marissa gasped out.

“You’re the convention pro, then, Marissa.” His smile was ‘melt-you-into-a-puddle’ gorgeous.

Marissa giggled and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Okay.” His smile faded and Dave glanced at Gwen and Jo, looking back at Gwen when Jo ignored him to pour the ice from her first drink into her second. He smiled at Gwen now, glance lowering to her stomach. “How far along are you?”

“Guess,” Jo demanded. “She’s further along than you think.”

He was startled by that demand, lips parting. “Um….”

“You don’t have to guess, Dave. I’m at thirty weeks, almost thirty-one. Close to eight months.”

“You don’t look it. I would have guessed a month less.”

“I know, right?” Jo shook her head. “It’s so unfair. I was twice her size when I was pregnant.”

“Do you know what you’re having yet?”

Gwen stirred her water. “Doctor says a boy.”

“Cool. Have you picked out a name?”

Hands grasped Gwen’s shoulders and then Sam’s voice, tense and hard, said, “She’s married, dude.”

Dave looked up, eyes widening slightly. “I know. I saw the ring. Hi, I’m Dave.” He held out his hand only to draw it back when Sam didn’t take it.

“You’re in my seat, Dave.”

“Sorry. I’ll leave then.”

“You do that.”

Gwen covered Sam’s hands with hers. “Sam, don’t be a jealous caveman. We said he could sit here. Dave, this is Sam, my husband. Sam, this is David Angle. He’s the actor playing Dean in the movie that’s coming out.”

“I know who he is.”

She half turned so she could look up at him. “”I thought you were staying in the room.”

“I’ve got a few things to say to Becky if I can ever find her.”

“She’s not here,” Dave offered. “I thought she would be.” He frowned and stood, holding up a hand to catch someone’s attention. “Rose,” he called out. “Is that you? What are you doing here?” He picked up his drink. “Excuse me. I see someone from home.” He appeared relieved by that. “Gwen, Jo, Marissa,” he paused a second, “Sam…. Nice meeting you.”

“Suck up,” Sam said as he took the seat Dave had vacated.

Marissa hurried to get up. “I’ve got to meet that girl he’s talking to!” She pushed her way through the crowd and was gone.

“Finally, some peace. That girl never stops talking,” Jo said and looked at Sam. “You could’ve been nicer. It’s sort of his job to talk to fans.”

“You’re not fans.”

“No, but Marissa was and you were all ‘go away’.”

“Why are you being like this,” Gwen sat forward and rested her arms on the table. He’d never done this jealous crap before, so why was he starting now?

“Like what?”

“You know like what. Jealous. We were talking and in a public place. You have nothing to be jealous about. He’s not even my type.”

His expression shifted a fraction, annoyance flitting across his features, and he glanced around. “I’m a little on edge, okay? Too many of _them_ around.”

“Them,” she questioned with a lift of her brows.

“ _Them_. Fans. Every time I leave the room, I feel antsy, like I’ve got bugs crawling all over me.”

She covered his hand with hers. “You and Dean really need to relax about all this. Come on, Sam. They don’t know anything and you two being surly is already getting old. When will you ever see any of these people ever again?”

“Well, we think you and Jo need to be more on edge about it and do you think I ever thought I’d see Becky again?”

“You can relax and have some fun with it. I am. It’s sort of funny.”

He snorted.

“Let them think you’re playacting. Who cares?”

“I care. Dean cares. It’s all ridiculous, Gwen, and we’ve been in this position before. We’ve been to a stupid convention before.” 

“Where _is_ Dean, anyway?” Jo slid her half-finished second drink to the center of the table.

“Still in the room, packing and trying to plot a way out of the hotel where we won’t see any of these idiots and they won’t see us.”

Though they’d dismissed the notion of Teddy being involved, Gwen had the suspicion that he was here somewhere anyway, watching at the least. If he knew they were here, he’d cause deviations in Sam and Dean’s behavior for fun. She was definitely seeing some deviations right now. “Why do we have to leave,” she asked. “We’re only here a couple days.”

“Convention. Books. Becky. Actor. Take your pick.”

“Entire city of things to do away from the hotel,” Jo pointed out. “Come back only to sleep.”

Pain in the ass,” Sam grimaced.

“I know I am.” Jo grinned.

“Not what I meant, but you _can_ be a pain in the ass, Jo.”

“Thanks. I need a stronger drink.” She tapped a finger to the rim of the glass. “This one’s too watery.”

“We picked this hotel because it’s already full of things to do.” A server brought him a beer that he must have ordered at the bar. Sam removed the cap and took a long drink. “You know that, Jo. We wanted a fairly all-inclusive hotel so we didn’t have to go out looking for things to do this time.”

Gwen placed a hand on his. “Sam. Relax.” She grinned. “I won’t let them get you.”

“Not funny,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Jo also grinned. “She’s right, you know. It’s sort of funny. Look around. You have no less than eleven guys in this room wanting to be you. Some I’m sure are looking at Gwen and thinking quite literally.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her.

“Not yet, but I will be soon. Be a dear brother-in-law and get me another couple fishbowl amaretto stone sours? Tell them to add double the alcohol.”

Sam pushed back his chair and headed for the bar.

Jo shook her head. “He’s too uptight about this.”

“He and Dean both,” Gwen agreed.

“Maybe, we need to show them that there’s nothing to be uptight about.”

“What’s your idea?”

“I think we need to convince them to stay and go to events with us. We’ll be a buffer between them and _them_ ,” she gestured about the room, “show them they can stop spazzing out.”

Gwen leaned over and clinked her glass to the glass Jo had shoved in the center of the table. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jo reached for the glass and drained it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paced, and when he was done pacing, he did it some more, his thoughts churning. Jo thought this was nothing, huh?

He turned to Chuck, who hadn’t dared move once they were alone. Sam had gone off in search of Becky while Jo and Gwen did karaoke. The bare bones of a plan was forming, a plan to demonstrate to Jo and Gwen just what this meant to their lives. However, he needed a little help. Dean smiled. “Chuck. My _man_.” He spread his arms to punctuate the words.

Chuck started and looked around. “Um…Dean?”

He rested his hands on his hips. “There’s a slight, microscopic chance I might not kill you after all.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” He didn’t sound relieved. He sounded worried.

“I’m not killing you because you’re going to do something for me.”

“I can’t get Becky thrown out of the con. She’s the planner, the director. Not to mention every fan knows her. She’ll be missed.”

Mmm…getting Becky thrown out…. Dean fantasized about that a moment, then shook his head with reluctance. “Not what I had in mind.” Sitting across from Chuck, he leaned forward. “I want you to get a few things for me.”

“There’s a liquor store right across the street and the mini-bar should be filled.”

“Not what I had in mind either.”

“Oh. If it’s not alcohol, then what?” As he spoke, confusion bled across Chuck’s face. “Are you feelin’ okay, Dean?”

“I’m feeling fine. Get those things for me and make sure you don’t let Jo and Gwen see you.”

“Okay. It’ll take awhile. I have to pull some strings.”

“I’ll be here.”

After Chuck left to go about his errand, Dean spent the time hashing out the details of his plan. It was a good plan, simple and to the point. He thought the fans would do most of the work for him.

Sam returned at nearly one, Gwen beside him and Jo in his arms. Jo was far past snockered and into completely soused. Dean managed to get some painkiller and water down her and returned to the lounge area just as Sam closed the door to the bedroom he and Gwen were in.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Sam said, opening a beer and sinking down onto the couch.

“About that.” Dean got himself a beer.

“We _are_ leaving in the morning, right?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

Sam leaned his head back with an exasperated sigh. “Dean! Come on!”

“No, wait. Think about this. Jo and Gwen have no idea how creepy and annoying this whole fandom thing can be, right?”

“What are you planning to do and why do I suspect I’m not going to like it?”

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door. It was Chuck, holding two large envelopes completely stuffed with items, with two t-shirts thrown over one shoulder.

“I got everything you asked for, even the shirts.”

Dean laughed and dumped the packets out on the table. “Excellent. You can live another day, Chuck. Now go get some sleep. We might be needing you tomorrow, too.” He made a motion at the door and Chuck practically ran out.

Sam’s expression was skeptical. “What’s all this?”

“These are the packets of fun. Disneyland for the Supernatural fan.” He laid out programs, tickets, and nametags with the con logo on them, then tossed one shirt at Sam. “Make sure Gwen wears that tomorrow. It should fit.”

He held it up. “It says ‘ESG, Extreme Sam Girl’ on it.”

“She is the ultimate extreme Sam girl, isn’t she? She married you. She’s having your kid. I’d say that counts. Besides, it might whip Becky into a frenzy and she’ll spontaneously combust.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam balled it up and set it beside him. “What’s the other shirt?”

“It’s the one Jo was asking about earlier.” He held it up and waved it. He’d had Chuck get her the ‘I love Dean’ shirt. “She’s not wearing it tomorrow, though. She can’t. She has to dress normally. I’ll slip this into her bag after she gets dressed.”

Sam leaned forward and began looking through items. “Spill. What’s your big idea?”

“We immerse them in our fandom, let them get a real good taste of the pain in the ass this is. Costume contests, theme lunch, workshops, trivia breakfast, lectures….the whole shebang.”

“What are we going to do while they’re doing that?”

“I don’t know about you, but I plan on having panic attacks, many, many panic attacks that end up with me here safely in the suite protected against the crazies.”

“This is gonna backfire.”

“Well, aren’t you Mister Doom and Gloom tonight?”

“Our wives aren’t stupid.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“They’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. “They probably will.”

“Why even do this?”

“Because talking doesn’t seem to get our point across. I think action is in order.” Dean picked up a schedule, squinted at it, and had to hold it at three different arm’s lengths until he found one where he could focus on the tiny print. Maybe Jo was right. Maybe he really did need reading glasses. Getting older was hell. “We’ll head to the breakfast and trivia at eight-thirty. You be surly and mumble about finding Becky a lot. We’ll hit David Angle’s panel at ten. You can slip away on the pretense of looking for Becky --”

“I’m really going to find her and throttle her.”

“Don’t actually catch her until we’re ready to leave. Then, we can bury her body in the desert on the way out of town.” He’d realized as he’d paced earlier that it was unrealistic to actually kill Becky. They’d have to do something about her though, but what? “We’ll go to the author luncheon at eleven thirty, then I’ll have a panic attack….”

He laid it all out for Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam climbed into bed beside Gwen. She’d dropped immediately into a pregnancy coma upon lying down and he pressed against her back, wrapping an arm around her, a little jealous for that ability to sleep at the drop of a hat. He splayed his fingers on her stomach. As he began to drift off, he felt a gentle push against his palm, like their baby was trying to reassure him.

He smiled, making a mental note to apologize to Gwen in the morning for his lapse into jealousy in the bar. He hadn’t really thought the actor was a threat. David Angle was hardly the kind of guy Gwen liked and Sam had known he wasn’t hitting on her. He’d just been trying to be friendly.

While he’d calmed down since Becky had argued with him, he wanted to sit her down and go round after round until she admitted the truth. The challenge he’d noticed as he’d glanced through the program, was that tomorrow was the busiest day of the convention and the busiest day for Becky as the director. It was going to be a problem getting her away from the convention. Maybe they’d wait until evening, when most of the large events were done, and they could bring her here to the room to talk. It’d be best if their talk wasn’t done in a public forum.

Dean was gung-ho about his plan, determined to push Jo into seeing things his way. No amount of telling him this was a bad idea and they should just leave was making him change his mind. It was a disaster in the making, especially if Jo caught on to what he was doing. If she caught Dean at one fake panic attack….

He moved closer to Gwen, put it all from his mind, and let himself sink into sleep,

~~~~~~~~~~

Becky paced in her room, occasionally casting glares at her old laptop computer. She’d started off just fine. Her plot and characterization had been going well, but just as she’d started to make real progress, her thoughts had turned to Sam and the woman with him here at the hotel.

His wife.

His _pregnant_ wife.

A rush of shame sent a hot flush across her skin and she stepped over to the table, closing the lid of the laptop with a bit more force than she’d intended.

Sam had a wife.

He had one and she hated to admit it. A part of her felt like she was dying to even think of admitting it, though realistically she’d known she wasn’t his type of woman. She wasn’t the sort to thrive in that life. Sure, it’d be thrilling for awhile, but to live it for the rest of her life? Becky thought about all that had happened to Sam and wondered on the things that had happened that she didn’t know about. Living his kind of life every day, all day would sort of…suck.

She sighed. Knowing it was all true was both a blessing and curse really. The blessing was in understanding that the kind of heroes Sam and Dean were actually existed. The curse was also in the knowing. Not only did they exist, but the things they hunted did as well and it wasn’t a glamorous life at all. When Chuck wrote about them being tortured, it had happened. They’d felt the pain and everything that went with it.

Had Chuck written about this? Was he even now writing that Becky Rosen had ignored Sam Winchester’s wife? Was he writing that Sam was hurt by that?

She sat on the end of the bed. She _had_ hurt him, had seen it on his face every time she’d insisted his wife didn’t exist and then again when she’d insisted the baby couldn’t exist.

He’d looked happy before she’d interrupted them. Becky recalled that touch to the woman’s -- _Gwen’s_ \-- back. It had been gentle, caressing, and loving. He seriously cared for the woman, like in a ‘love for Jess’ way, and Becky had pretty much spit on that.

Embarrassment for her own behavior welled up. Here she’d been trying to be mature and adult and she’d acted like an idiot teenager. Apparently, she hadn’t managed to leave those days behind.

What did she do now? She’d hurt Sam with her refusal to notice Gwen there and she’d undoubtedly hurt Gwen, too, though Gwen hadn’t seemed hurt. By now, she suspected Dean would be wanting her head on a pike and, if Jo and Gwen were good friends, Jo might as well. She’d alienated all of them, which was so not what she’d ever wanted. 

Logically, she knew there was a lot more to Sam’s life than what Chuck wrote. Writing everything would be boring. It _was_ possible for him to have a wife and baby on the way. It _could_ happen.

She sighed, grudgingly admitting the truth to herself.

It _had_ happened. Sam Winchester was married to a pretty woman named Gwen and they were having a baby. She had to apologize -- to both Sam and Gwen.

But apologizing meant admitting out loud that Sam, while ideal, was truly unattainable. He was out of reach. Still, if he was genuinely happy, then shouldn’t she be happy for him? As his number one fan, shouldn’t she be glad he’d found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with; the woman he wanted to have his children? Shouldn’t she be happy that he was going to have the joy of being a father? If Sam Winchester could find love in a bleak and dreary existence, then wasn’t it worth her fandom being killed? Didn’t he deserve happiness in however long he had left?

She wiped away tears. Tomorrow, she’d find them and apologize.

Morning came far too early, though, and she’d missed all of the evening events she was supposed to have attended. She woke with a tension headache and the realization that this was the busiest day of the con for her. How could she find them when she had to be running from event to event making sure it all ran smoothly?


	5. Chapter 5

Gwen woke early. Sam was beside her on his back, his breaths heavy and long. Carefully, Gwen rolled over until she was facing him. At least he’d calmed down the previous night. She’d almost thought he’d wake up before her, pack their bags, and present her with a fait accompli.

Stretching out a hand, she brushed his hair off his forehead. “Morning,” she whispered, then went to shower. She dressed, putting on the t-shirt sitting on her bag. It had to have been Jo who’d managed to get it for her sometime because she didn’t see either Sam or Dean buying her the shirt. It appealed to her sense of humor. ‘Extreme Sam Girl’. She certainly was. She had to count as the most extreme Sam girl ever.

The shirt was a little big in the shoulders, but fit nicely across her breasts and especially her stomach. Jo had estimated the size well and Gwen made a mental note to thank her for the shirt later. 

She left a note in case they woke up before she got back, and went down to an early breakfast of oatmeal and fresh fruit. As she ate, she looked over directions on her phone. It wasn’t that far to the hotel Teddy had called his own, not really. She was going to find him and make sure he wasn’t involved. Hopefully, he wasn’t and Sam and Dean could be a bit more at ease about this.

Within fifteen minutes, she was at the front desk. “I’m looking for Teddy Rickster. Is he here?”

The young man shook his head. “I haven’t seen him today, but his girlfriend is in the dining room having breakfast. You could ask her.”

Girlfriend? “Sophie?” 

“Yes.”

Gwen smiled somewhat smugly that her guess had been correct. It had been a hunch that Sophie may have gone off with Teddy, one Gwen had wanted to check out as well. She’d been skeptical of actually finding her though “Thanks.” She stepped into the dining room and saw Sophie at the far end by herself. She approached her. “Hi, Sophie.”

“Gwen?” Sophie looked up, lips parting and surprise in her eyes. She’d cut her long hair in a short bob that made her features look more delicate.

“I was hoping you’d be here.” Sophie looked well, like she’d put back on some of the weight she’d lost after Mick’s disappearance, then kept off due to circumstances.

While Gwen was glad to see her, she didn’t look pleased to see Gwen, sitting back, suspicion sliding into her gaze. “What’re you doing here?”

“Vacation.” She sat down without being asked. Whatever Sophie was eating, Gwen couldn’t quite identify it. It looked like something from a crime scene.

“How did you know I’d be here? I cut ties with everyone.”

“I know. Your dad’s not too happy about that.” Chris had been beyond worried, afraid something had happened to her and Gwen was under orders to give him an update as soon as she found out anything. “Might want to give him a call. He thinks you died somewhere out on the road and he’ll never know it.”

She waved a hand. “He’ll be fine and I’ll contact him after….” Sophie broke off. “Never mind.”

“After what?”

She crossed her arms in a defensive movement. “After I have the baby.”

“With Teddy?” The news actually didn’t surprise her as much as it once might have.

“We’re trying.”

Gwen remembered what Sam had said. The Trickster could only have a child with a woman who’d never had one. And Teddy liked what he called ‘exceptional women’. Gwen thought Sophie certainly qualified as exceptional. “You’re not yet?”

“We just started.” She looked away, seemed to brace herself and looked back, a bit of defiance in her gaze. “He’s not like the others, Gwen. I know he’s a monster, but he’s not a _monster_.”

“I know, but be careful, Sophie. Are you sure --”

“Of course I am. I’ve thought about this since the reunion. Mick died a long time ago and I’m still here. Teddy makes me _feel_ something. It’s been so long since I felt anything and he’s done everything he can to help me.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Contact Chris now, though. Give him some peace of mind. Is Teddy….” How did she ask if he was being a Trickster?

“Working?”

“One way to put it.”

“He never does anything I’ll bust him for, but he does play a few tricks.”

“ _Would_ you bust him?”

“Yes.” The answer was a quick and cool as Sam’s had been when he’d been soulless.

“So? Is he working right now?”

“I don’t know. I think so. He was following some fat arrogant womanizing ass around the past week.”

Which meant he could be anywhere.

“Are you hungry? Want some breakfast?” Sophie held up a hand and a server approached. “My guest would like to order.”

Since she was feeling a little hungry again, Gwen glanced at the menu. Jo had been right about feeling constantly hungry in the last trimester. “The half order of crepes with the blueberries, please.” When the server had gone, she gestured at Sophie’s plate. “Do I want to know what you’re eating?”

“Chicken livers with sage, salsa, raspberries, and scrambled eggs.”

Gross. Chicken livers and sage she understood. Salsa and scrambled eggs she understood. Raspberries were good, too. But all together? “Are you _sure_ you’re not pregnant?”

“Hey, it all goes to the same place anyway.” There, at the corners of Sophie’s mouth, was the suggestion of a smile, of real humor. “I’m not. Teddy has me on vitamins and a total diet makeover so I’m healthy enough. I guess having a Trickster can be hard on the human body and he says cheeseburgers and fried foods every day are disaster.”

“I’ll bet. Sam’s been telling Dean that for years and Jo and I’ve stepped in on that, too.”

They talked, Gwen catching her up on cases they’d worked and rumors of cases. The crepes were good, the size of the order just enough to stop her stomach from rumbling.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…. What’s with the shirt,” Sophie asked as Gwen stood to leave.

“Oh, it’s a joke.”

“Extreme Sam Girl. What’s the joke?”

“You sort of have to be there.”

Sophie’s brows rose, but she didn’t say anything more, waving in goodbye. Gwen headed back to the hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Jo.”

She popped a couple painkiller, washed them down with water, and peered up at Sam. “What?” She didn’t have the throbbing hangover she rightly deserved for the amount she’d had to drink the night before. All she had was a tiny headache and vaguely remembered Dean insisting she drink a couple gallons of water. She’d woken half an hour earlier and taken her time in the shower. Her stomach growled loudly.

“Chuck dropped this off for you and Gwen last night after we got back and you went to bed.” He set two large envelopes in front of her.

Dean frowned, lips pressing tight together.

Jo didn’t remember going to bed. What she did remember was giggling an awful lot in the hotel hallways. She didn’t pick up the envelopes. “What are they?”

Opening one, he dumped out the contents. “Tickets and things. He said that, as long as we’re here, you…we…may as well get the VIP treatment to make up for the books.” He seemed uncomfortable, his shoulders shifting, glance sliding to Dean. “Like it makes up for anything.” 

Jo watched them a moment. Dean was giving Sam a death glare and Sam was staring back with defiance. While they had yet to mention leaving this morning, she deduced that Dean wanted to go and Gwen had already soothed Sam enough to where he’d actually give them the envelopes instead of throwing them away. She rolled her eyes. “Geez. Can you two at least try to see the humor in this?” She began to go through the things Chuck had brought. There appeared to be everything they’d need for a fun time, including tickets for a photo opportunity and to a happy hour that afternoon with David Angle, an ‘intimate’ event, according to the ticket. She pulled out a nametag. It had the con logo and ‘Gwen’ written in marker on the tag. She looked through the second envelope until she found one with her name, then pinned it on her jacket. “Where’s Gwen? I’m hungry.”

“Not sure where she is. Her note said she was running an errand. How are you not hung-over with the amount of alcohol you had last night?” Sam shook his head as if in wonder. “I had to carry you back here. You could hardly walk. You made up dirty lyrics to the muzak in the elevator on the way up and kept asking if I ‘got it’.”

“I barely had anything.” She began to sort tickets and papers into the order they’d need them, referring to the program. “Those were _weakest_ amaretto stone sours I’ve ever had. They were like water.”

“No, you were _drinking_ them like they were water.”

“Their bartenders obviously never had my mother standing over them taste-testing each drink for hours until they were able to make them to her exacting specifications -- strong on the booze like a real drink should be.” Raising a hand, she snapped her fingers several times. “Get ready, guys. Come on. Breakfast starts in twenty and I want to get good seats for the trivia contest.”

“Trivia,” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

“Hell, yeah. You two should blow ‘em all out of the water. I mean, after all, it is your lives. Let’s go win some prizes.” She sent Gwen a text to meet them.

Halfway through the contest, it was apparent to Jo that her husband didn’t know anything about himself. Nor did Sam seem to know anything. The two didn’t answer the easiest questions, though she and Gwen were making a killing on the personal stuff.

When it was over and most people had filed out, Jo put her feet up on the chair across from her. “How is it possible you two don’t know a damn thing about your lives?” Jo sipped the remains of her coffee.

“These people are obsessive,” Dean complained with a scowl. “How am I supposed to remember what kind of donut I had eight years ago or what color shirt I was wearing? For that matter, how do you know all that stuff?”

“I’m your wife. I know things these fans would kill to know about you, especially some of the female fans.”

Sam tapped his fingers on the table. “I need to find Becky. Shouldn’t she be here?”

With a frown, Gwen rubbed at her stomach. “I’m hungry again. Think we could get me something?”

“How many breakfasts have you had this morning?” Jo glanced at Gwen.

“Three.” She shrugged. “They were all little ones.”

She cast a long glance at Gwen’s stomach and shook her head. “ _So_ unfair.”

“I’ll get you something,” Sam offered, getting up from his chair.

“Meet us in the dealer room,” Gwen told him.

They headed down the hall to the main room for the convention, barely reaching the doorway before two girls came up to them. Jo put them at about seventeen. 

The girls giggled. “It’s her,” one whispered to the other. “You ask.”

“No, you ask,” the other replied.

“No, _you_.”

“No --”

Seeing that this exchange could easily go on for longer than she cared to stand there, Jo interrupted. “Ask who what?”

The two grinned. “Can we get your autograph?” They held out small notepads. Their hands were shaking.

“My autograph.” What the hell?

“Yeah.”

“Mine. I’m not --”

“Your portrayal is already legend. I had to meet you!”

“ _We_ ,” the second girl corrected, “had to meet you.”

Dean had a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like laughter and she saw a tiny smirk on Gwen’s lips.

“My portrayal.”

They looked at each other and squee-d. “Rissa said she was awesome.”

“Wait. Marissa sent you over here?”

“Yeah.” The one on the right gestured at the room. “She’s over there.”

Jo looked to where she pointed and sure enough, there was Marissa, with what looked like the entire female population of the con around her. She waved at Jo, who slowly held up a hand in return. “Okay. A couple autographs coming right up.”

“Would you include a personal note, too?”

With a ‘see, I can be gracious’ expression in Dean’s direction, Jo signed both books, including a generic ‘best wishes’ with both.

“This is going to be some day,” Gwen said with anticipation dripping from her voice. She moved to the dealer table and began to peruse the items there.

Dean caught Jo’s arm. “I’m not going in there.”

“Of course you are. Dave’s panel starts soon. We have to get good seats.”

“Dave?”

“The actor playing you. Didn’t Sam tell you? Gwen and I met him last night. He sat at our table with us for awhile.”

“There is so much wrong with this I don’t know where to begin.”

She and Gwen found seats. Sam had apparently come back and left again, for Gwen was munching on a snack size package of pretzels while Sam was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, where was Dean? Had he not followed her in the room after all? She could’ve sworn he was right behind her.

“This should be entertaining.” Gwen gestured at one line leading up to the makeshift stage. Dean was near the front of the line, standing there like he meant to be there.

“What’s he doing?”

“He likes Dave as an actor, right?”

She thought back over the various actors Dean had ever said anything about. “Yeah, I guess he does. He liked that one flick he was in with that actor that played new Captain Kirk. I can’t remember what it was called.”

“That’s the line to ask him questions. Didn’t you see the sign?”

No, she hadn’t. She’d been trying to get the best seats for what she assumed was going to be a popular panel. “He can’t be in line.”

“Well, he is.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Standing in line.”

“Smartass.” 

“Rather be a smartass than a dumbass.”

Taking out her phone, she texted him. He looked at his phone and put it away without replying. “He’s ignoring my text.”

Gwen finished with the pretzels and opened a package of peanut butter crackers, holding it out to her. “Cracker? Too bad there isn’t popcorn.”

“What’s he up to?” She absent-mindedly signed eight more autographs while they waited and the room filled up. Whatever he was planning wasn’t going to be good, she knew that.

The panel started without trouble, Dave promising a message from Darrin later and starting the question section. There were eight people in line in front of Dean and he waited his turn with a bored expression. Upon getting the microphone in his hand, he stepped closer to the stage, head turning slightly in a way Jo recognized. It was the turn he sometimes used when he was assessing someone and getting ready to harass them for answers on a job. “Hi. Um…what makes you uniquely qualified to play Dean?”

“Uniquely qualified?”

“Yeah. Why did they pick you out of all the other actors?”

It sounded like a nice neutral question. Jo knew better. Dean was spoiling for a fight. She could see it in the way he shrugged and smiled. He wasn’t interested in the answer, but rather in riling the actor up.

“Well,” Dave leaned against a stool that was on the stage, “I was told I had the right look for one. Actually, I went up for Sam and Darrin for Dean, but they had us read opposite that. I guess I had the range they were looking for for the character.”

“Uh-huh. Were you a fan of the books?”

“I’d never heard of the series, but it sounded interesting.”

“Interesting? A racist truck is interesting?”

Dave watched Dean a moment. “I mean the series as a whole. Brothers searching for their father. Killing monsters. A constant roadtrip. Put all that together and it’s an intriguing idea. I mean, as we, the readers, find out more about them, more questions are raised about their lives, their pasts. I picked up a few books and kept reading. The overall story arc has kept me hooked. I can’t wait to fill in the holes with the new books.”

The man beside Dean reached for the microphone still in Dean’s hands. Dean held it far above his head. Jo could just hear the words, ‘sir, you have to give someone else a chance to ask questions’. He ignored the man, monopolizing the microphone, his questions becoming increasingly obnoxious. Strangely, there didn’t appear to be much interest in forcing Dean to give up the microphone, the line behind him dispersing until only a couple people remained, like perhaps he was asking the sort of questions the audience wanted to know the answers to.

Jo kept waiting for Dean to kick into really obnoxious high gear.

“Would you do a nude scene if they threw enough money at you?” He held up a finger. “Wait. You _did_ do a nude scene. What did your parents think of that? I bet they were so proud.”

To David Angle’s credit, he managed to keep his cool as Dean’s questioning (interrogation) continued. “When you’re struggling to get started as an actor, sometimes you’ll do things you look back at with regret. I don’t regret that film, as it got me noticed, though if I had the choice again, I might not do that particular scene. My parents understood that and chose not to see the film. They support my career completely.”

“Right. So…. No career in porn any time soon?”

“No.”

“Sorry, ladies. Seems he’s shy.” His smug glance at the audience produced some laughter. “What’s the actress who plays Cassie _really_ like? Huh?” He wiggled his brows. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“She’s very professional.” Dave sighed, glanced out at the crowd and stepped towards Dean. “Okay, then. I’m going to have to ask you to let Tom have the microphone back and go back to your seat.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure someone else might like to ask a question or two.”

“Gotcha.” Turning, Dean looked at the last three people in line. He put his arm around the young woman behind him, urged her forward to stand beside him, and said, “You got a question for Dave, sweetheart?”

The girl giggled. Jo realized it was one of the girls who’d asked for her autograph in the doorway. “I do, yeah.”

“And? Go for it. He wants to hear your question.”

“Okay. Um…Are you…um…Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Tell us, Dave. Got a main squeeze? Pretty young thing you see regularly?”

He took a drink of water. “Not right now, but there is a woman I’m interested in. How about we cut the Q and A short? I’ve got --”

“What? No!” Dean gestured at the second person. “Here’s another question. What’s you name?” He held the microphone to the man.

“Jason.”

“What’s your question, Jason?”

“Did your career interfere with college plans?”

“You can ask him anything and that’s what you ask?” He shook his head. “College plans?”

Dave cleared his throat. “Actually, that’s a good question. I’m taking the long route to a degree: class here, class there. I had some fairly steady jobs for awhile, but when I have downtime, I take classes.” The last person in line returned to her seat, leaving only Dean at the microphone, and it looked to Jo almost like Dave sighed in relief. “If there are no more questions --”

“Wait, I think my wife has a question, too. Hey, honey, what did you want to ask him again?” Dean grinned out at the audience. “Honey? Don’t be shy.”

Jo slid down in her seat and pretended she hadn’t walked in with him and didn’t know him at all. She couldn’t wait to get to the bar and have a drink.

Across the room, Marissa craned her neck to see her and gave her a thumbs-up with both hands.

“Jo? Where are you, sweetie? Stand up.”

He could see her, she knew he could, because he was looking right at her, daring her to actually stand up. That expression made her grit her teeth in annoyance. This was all an attempt to further his view. He was trying to embarrass her so thoroughly that she’d agree to leave the hotel. Glancing at Gwen, she saw a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

Gwen grinned, raised a hand over Jo’s head, and pointed at her.

“There you are,” Dean said cheerfully.

“I will _so_ get you back,” Jo told Gwen as she stood up.

“I know,” was her unconcerned reply.

“What was your question again? I can’t remember.” The microphone wasn’t cordless, but Dean dragged it as far as he could to her without unplugging it.

Jo cleared her throat. “Okay. Hi, Dave. What’s your favorite method of dealing with _obnoxious_ fans.” She gave Dean a quick pointed look and returned her attention to David Angle with a smile.

On the small stage, he smiled back and half laughed. “That’s a very good question.” he paced a moment. “Ignoring is always an option.”

Didn’t work for him with Dean.

“I also remind myself that fans are passionate people. After all, the word fan comes from fanatic. They can easily get carried away, but I’ve found most are polite. The obnoxious ones, as you called them, are maybe one out of twenty depending on the fandom. Some fandoms it’s more like one out of a hundred. Still, if neither of those things helps, there’s always alcohol.”

The audience laughed.

“No, I’m kidding about the alcohol.”

Except she thought he wasn’t. Neither was she. She really wanted a cocktail or two with lunch now.

“Who here would like to hear a quick message from Darrin?”

The cheering was loud enough to hurt Jo’s ears.

Dean put the microphone back and left the room without a glance her way.


	6. Chapter 6

While Sam had no desire to watch Dean’s antics, he did sit on the bench right outside the room, looking over the schedule as he listened with half an ear to the panel. Yesterday, he’d hoped they could just leave, but Dean had a plan. It was guaranteed to piss off Jo, yet Dean was determined to stick to it.

Sam had already derailed it slightly by telling Jo it had been Chuck getting the tickets and things for them -- which it had been. Chuck had done the work. Sam’s reasoning for doing that was that it had been late when Dean had hatched his scheme and he obviously hadn’t been thinking clearly. First, how else had he thought to explain the packets? Someone had had to get them and Chuck was the logical one. Second, the best way to convince Jo of something wasn’t to push her on it, though Dean did have the personal experience part right. Jo learned well from personal experience and might actually be swayed to Dean’s view if there was enough time involved -- and if their fans behaved as badly as Dean was anticipating.

He cringed a little at the phrase ‘their fans’. It was too surreal to realize they had a growing fandom. It wasn’t just a tiny fringe anymore and something about that sent a wave of alarm crashing through him. He’d never thought Chuck would go against their threats and publish more, nor had he thought people would want to make a movie out of one of the worst experiences of their lives. That stupid truck. Sam shook his head and flipped a page in the program, noting a few of the discussions and events scheduled for later.

_‘Ellen: mother figure or love interest?’: Come discuss all things Ellen as we dissect what she could mean to our boys._

Love interest? Ellen? He snorted. Love interest for Bobby was more like it, though that wouldn’t come for a long time yet.

_‘Jo, Cassie, or Bela: Dean’s ladies’: Which lovely lady could win Dean’s heart for good and why? Lively discussion expected, please bring a sense of humor. No bad-mouthing any character._

He almost wanted to hear some of the arguments at that panel. Jo seemed to have quite a few vocal supporters, if that girl Marissa was right. Or maybe it was just that Marissa seemed like more than one fan herself….

_‘Sad little boy: Sam’s destiny’: What did yellow-eyes really do to Sam and what will future books bring? The author will be present to aid the discussion._

Oh geez, really? He’d thought they’d covered that, or was Chuck back to proposing publishing the angel, Ruby, and Lilith storyline? Sam closed his eyes briefly at the thought of all of that being public. Would anyone understand why he’d done what he had? Did he care if they did?

A hard little icy knot seemed to form in his stomach.

He opened his eyes and looked back down at the program.

_‘Roadhouse mixer’: Our very own Molly Mary Madigan, vendor, portrays Ellen as we mingle with old friends and new. Ticket price includes Roadhouse t-shirt._

If Molly Mary Madigan was the vendor with curly hair, then he thought she’d make a good Ellen. She had the right sort of look.

_‘The women of Supernatural’: The good, the bad, and the deliciously evil. Note: we won’t be discussing love interests, merely the roles women play in furthering the plots._

There were quite a few women to talk about. He wondered if Ava would be one of the ones discussed and what category she’d fall in. All three maybe?

_‘John: loving dad or self-centered psychopath?’: Did John truly love his sons or did his capacity for love die with Mary? All opinions considered._

He frowned. Who had come up with these discussions? Of course their dad had loved them. He just hadn’t shown it in conventional or traditional ways. Sam turned to the next page.

_‘Bumps and bruises: personal injury in the world of Supernatural’: The feasibility of our boys surviving such injuries as being thrown across the room each book._

Yeah, he often wondered himself how they managed to live sometimes.

_‘Timeline: Where each book fits’: We’ll be discussing the books released and those due to be released. There will be a handout._

He closed the booklet, mentally going back over Dean’s plan. Gwen was going to be the difficult one because, at this juncture, she wasn’t even a blip in the plotlines in the books. She wouldn’t be introduced for a long time, well after where Chuck was in the stories of their lives. No one would even know about any Campbell relatives for awhile yet or that Sam and Dean’s mother Mary had been raised in a hunting family. Readers were all still under the impression John was the only hunter and possibly the one raised in it.

Sam was resigned to being here the entire weekend. As much as he hated having to deal with all of this again, he would because Dean wanted him here and because Gwen was definitely enjoying herself. She was all smiles and bright eyes as she took in their fandom.

He winced as Dean asked a particularly nosy question and wondered how soon until the actor got fed up and sicced his bodyguard on Dean.

Becky’s voice came from around the corner and Sam remained still, waiting for her to see him, wondering if she’d turn and run or brave coming up to him. She rounded the corner, cell phone in one hand, clipboard in the other, carrying on what he realized were three conversations at the same time. Two people, a man and woman, were behind her. She spoke to them and into her phone.

“If the keycard doesn’t work, try Riley’s. If that doesn’t work, go to the front desk for a new one. They promised us the entire block of rooms. It’s in our contract. If they won’t give you a new card, Alice, call me back. I’ll set them straight.” She ended the call. “No, Mandy, you can’t set up your presentation _as_ Toby is talking. Cooperate. You have to share the room. Mark, the costume contest is for _real_ costumes like, say, wendigos or werewolves, not for anyone dressed as hunters. I’m sorry, that’s the rules. You could add a category, but how do you plan to judge it? Think about it. How can you say one flannel, tee, jeans, and work boots is better than another?”

She stopped so suddenly the two people behind her ran into her, her gaze fixing on one of the entrances to the casino. “Michael Shay, you get out of that casino right now. I can see you, mister. You’re supposed to be on security detail right now helping Angle’s bodyguard.”

The young man in the doorway pretended he didn’t hear her, cupping a hand to one ear with a confused expression that was fake, since Sam was certain she could be heard over the microphoned voices in the next room.

“Don’t you ignore me, Mike. _Mike_. Michael!”

He ran.

Becky took off after him, her heels clacking on the tile floor. The man followed her while the woman took off in the opposite direction muttering about schedules and set-up times.

It was a novel experience to have Becky walk right by him and not see him. Sort of refreshing. Sam slowly sat back against the wall, relaxing in tiny increments. He returned to thinking about Gwen and how she’d react to Dean’s plan. With her sense of humor and sunny nature, he’d be surprised if she was swayed to change her point of view.

He heard Jo’s voice, a reply, then cheering. Getting up, he went to the doorway and peered in just as Dean came out the doorway. “Tough nut to crack?”

“That guy is too even-tempered,” Dean grumbled. “Is he on drugs?”

A video began to play. “Hey, guys. Darrin here.” He was a goofy looking guy in Sam’s opinion. His hair was longer than Dave’s (true to life) and his grin was like a little kid’s, pleased and excited. “Man, I wish I could be there with you all. Hope the convention is going well and you’re all having a wonderful time. I want to tell you, Dave and I had a blast making this film and your support means a lot to us. Now, we’ve got a special treat for you. We’ve got a clip ready for you to see. Enjoy.”

A scene began to play, then went into a trailer that had Dean muttering, “Damn. If I hadn’t lived it, I’d want to see it.”

“Trailers always make movies look better than they are.” In Sam’s opinion, the movie didn’t look good at all. It looked like a waste of two hours, especially since they’d lived through it once already.

“True. You find Becky?”

“She walked by in full boss lady mode, ended up running after one of her staff members that was shirking his duties. She didn’t see me.”

“Bet that felt good.” He shrugged his brows.

“It did.” He waved the program. “Did you realize this is bigger than the last one we were at? They’ve got an entire block of rooms and something they’re calling a ‘con suite’. Thought I might check that out, see what it is.”

“How much bigger,” he asked, a wary gleam in his eyes.

Sam held out the program, opened to the last two pages. “See the highlighted rooms on the map? There’s fifteen of them plus the two rooms you’ve been in this morning.”

He took a noisy breath through his nose and said in a tight voice, “That’s more than I anticipated. Last convention was really small.”

It had been tiny compared to this one, a handful of people. The room Dean had left had to have close to eighty or ninety people in it and that wasn’t counting the people at events in other rooms or the ones who hadn’t come down yet. “Uh-huh. The packed room you were just in didn’t give you any clues?”

“I had the light in my eyes. Besides, I bet half the women are here just because they wanted to meet him, not because they’re fans of the books.”

“Dean, it’s not too late to stop this and go home. We can be out of here by noon, take the long way home, and see some of those sights we’re always saying we want to see on the way.” He knew Dean wouldn’t go for it, but it was worth a shot to suggest it.

Dean thought about that, studying the program, and finally shook his head. “No. We see this through.” He closed the program, handing it back to Sam.

“You _want_ to piss off Jo? Because that’s where all this is headed and you know it.” Folding the program, he put it in his pocket.

“Of course I don’t want to piss her off, but I _need_ her to understand me on this -- for me and for Jack.”

“For Jack?” What did Jack have to do with this here?

“Think about it, Sam. If Chuck keeps publishing, where’s he going to get?” He jabbed a finger at the floor. “Right here. Me with a wife and son. You with a wife and baby on the way. We’ll have all of _this_ ,” he gestured around them, “front and center. Our kids will have to deal with this, Sam, and I damn well don’t want Jack to have to fight off his own ‘Becky’. You know there’ll be at least one out there. I don’t know about you, but I need my wife with me on stopping that train wreck long before it happens. I need Jo to become mama bear and tell Chuck he’s going to stop publishing or else. You seen her when she’s protecting Jack?” He whistled long and low. “Scary. I need her with me and I’d think you’d want Gwen with you on it, too. You want _your_ kid dealing with this?”

While he hadn’t considered the long-range effect rippling to their kids, Dean was right. It _would_ affect them if Chuck published everything he had. One movie could be written off as coincidence for the names and subject matter, but if more and more people looked at the books, and the movie was a big enough hit that a sequel was made, the odds were that people they knew would run across it all. Anonymity would really be lost.

But…could public interest even keep up long enough for Chuck to publish it all? Surely interest would wane after a few more months?

“Keep in mind, Sam, Star Trek had a short run and a small, but vocal, devoted group of fans. It took them about twenty years to revive it and they did. Look around.” He swirled a finger in the air. “Small, vocal, devoted. Don’t tell me this doesn’t worry you.”

When Dean put it like that…. “Okay. I guess I have to find Becky then.”

Dean nodded. “Team Winchester for the win.” He held up a fist.

Sam sighed, rolled his eyes, and bumped his fist to Dean’s. “What are you, ten?”

“You know you love me. Now, go get her…but not in the sexual way those words usually mean.”

He’d check out the con suite, then wander back for lunch. First, however, he needed to make sure Gwen had everything she needed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The panel hadn’t gone the way Dean had thought it would. David Angle hadn’t reacted with much annoyance and Dean wondered where he’d gotten that sort of patience. He sat on the bench while the room emptied out and a team began setting up a photography station across the room. They had about twenty minutes before the picture opportunity would begin. Already people were beginning to line-up.

Jo walked over to him with her lips pursed and crossed her arms. She tapped one foot slowly.

He stood. “What?”

“You were a dick in there.”

Gwen stepped beside her. “You sort of were,” she agreed and jerked a thumb across the room at the table and equipment being set up. “I’ll get in line for the photo op. Tickets?”

“I’ll be right there,” Jo told her, handing her one envelope. “You harassed him for no reason, Dean.”

“I had a reason.”

“Yeah? What was it? Because he didn’t deserve that. He’s not like them, Dean. Do you not see that? He’s doing his job by being here. This is a publicity thing for him.”

“He’s a fan of the books himself.”

“Is that a completely bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“How?” She waited for an answer. “Okay, some of these people are over the top, like that Becky girl, but for the most part, these people are normal people who like the books and like to talk about them. You act like you’ve never gone all fan boy yourself over something and you totally have. I’ve seen it.”

“Jo --”

“No. You need to apologize to him for that in there. I mean it. It was uncalled for. It’s one thing to try to embarrass me or harass someone while on a case. It’s another to do it to a guy just doing his job.” She glanced at Gwen in line. “I get that this is your life they’re reading about and talking about --”

“Ooohh,” came Marissa’s voice. “Watch this! They’re totally AU-ing a scenario right now! This is so exciting!”

To their left was a group of six that included Marissa and the two girls who’d stopped Jo earlier for her autograph. They fell silent, an eagerness on their faces that Dean found more than a little disturbing.

“ -- but can you lighten up?” She whirled to face Marissa. “Marissa. What? What do you want? What now?”

“Can I ask what sort of scene you’re working on?”

Jo blinked twice and looked at Dean. “We’ll finish this later,” Jo promised with a tiny shake of her head. “Maybe at lunch.” She stalked away, towards where Gwen waited in line. Marissa and friends trailed along after her.

Dean crossed his arms and stepped back into the room, leaning against the wall to watch the event about to begin. Jo was right, actually. He’d been harassing Dave; assumed he was part of this. He’d done to Dave something like what Becky did to Sam only without out the creepy crushing. As he stood watching Dave take his place in front of a backdrop, he was able to start drawing parallels between he and Sam and Dave. Then, he started to sympathize with him.

Dean didn’t want to sympathize, but once he started, it was damn hard to stop.

He saw a girl tug Dave down and plant a kiss on his lips and winced as another girl tried to climb up Dave, wrapping her arms and legs around him. His bodyguard stepped in to physically remove her and Dean was slightly surprised to see Sam appear and move in to help extract the girl. He’d thought Sam had already left. As she was carried off, she called out, “I’m your number one fan, Dave!”

Sam returned and said, “Going to find Becky now,” as if the incident had reminded him of that task.

It had certainly reminded Dean of it.

As the photo op went on, Dean began to see a side of Dave that he didn’t think Dave knew he was showing. The two intense fan encounters put a long pause in the event, Dave stepping back behind the backdrop to compose himself. From where Dean stood, he could see Dave’s lips moving and head shaking. He could see him taking exaggerated deep breaths. The realization that David Angle, actor, was struggling not to run away screaming (as was Dean’s own inclination at times) floored him and he began to see him in a new light -- one not as a part of the craziness, but rather someone who’d been sucked into it, too, just like Jo had told him.

If he took all that to the role of Dean, then dear God, the man was totally going to do him justice on the big screen!

He watched Jo and Gwen get their picture, one of the tickets Chuck had included in the packages. They flanked Dave, the photographer giving instructions that had them all moving back and forth. He felt the tiniest bit like there really was some humor in this after all. The real Jo and Gwen, dressed as themselves, standing beside the fake Dean who thought Jo was dressed as the character Jo in the books but it was actually Jo herself standing beside him…. A smile at that thought tugged at his lips and he quashed it quickly.

This was not amusing. It wasn’t.

But…it sort of was to see Jo smack dab in the middle of this like she wasn’t herself, only she really was. Thinking about it this time made his head hurt as much as it had the first time he and Sam had been confronted with the books.

Gwen left Jo at the table filling out something and sauntered over. “I saw an almost smile there.” She uncapped her water bottle, took a sip, and recapped it.

“No, you didn’t,” he argued, though his heart wasn’t in arguing at the moment.

“Did, too. Careful, Dean. You watch us here long enough, you might realize this little convention isn’t such a world-ender after all.” She looked him over. “How are you feeling? Panicky yet?”

She knew. He got the sudden feeling that she knew what they were up to. Her tone was too innocent for her not to know. Sam must have spilled the beans. Is that where Sam had gone instead of going off on that planned hunt for Becky? Had he pulled Gwen aside and told her? Dean glanced away. The power she had over Sam with a flash of her now considerable cleavage…fully equaled the power Jo had over him should she choose to use it. He actually couldn’t blame Sam for caving and telling her. She didn’t look mad though, which was a good thing. “Fine so far. Why? Is Dr. Gwen keeping an eye on me?”

“Maybe. Let’s go in and get early seats at a table.”

“We should wait for Sam.”

“He’s off hunting the white whale. I don’t expect him back too soon.”

“White whale? You’re calling Becky a whale?”

She shook her head. “Not literally. It’s just that I’d think she’d be highly visible today and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of her all morning. So…white whale. Like a myth.”

“I’ve read the book,” he replied in a slightly defensive tone. He had, too. Not just the Cliff’s Notes. So Sam hadn’t told her Becky had walked right by him?

Gwen’s gaze was thoughtful. “You constantly surprise me.”

“Why? That I read it?”

“No. That you always feel the need to be defensive about those things. Nothing wrong with having read a classic, but you act like it’s something to be embarrassed about. Lighten up, Batman. Even Christian once admitted to reading Shakespeare and liking it and I think you’re a better man than he ever was. Smarter, too. You thought to get a protection tattoo and he never did.”

“I didn’t know I was being defensive.”

Her smile was slow and amused. “Liar.” She looped an arm through his. “Come on. I’ve got to get my feet up and you can keep me company until Jo can get away from her fan club.”

A quick glance showed that she was right. Jo had been cornered again by Marissa and her friends.

He let Gwen lead him towards the room they’d had breakfast in. It’d still be awhile before the luncheon.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con suite was on the second floor. Sam simply followed the paper signs from the elevator. Some person had tried to show a sense of humor by putting a paper sign on the door reading ‘Roadhouse’. Beneath it, someone else had scrawled ‘If this is the Roadhouse, then where’s the booze?’

He stepped inside. The con suite was actually a small suite of a lounge, kitchenette, and two bedrooms that were outfitted as conference rooms instead of bedrooms. In the lounge area, were three plush loveseats in a ‘u’ formation in front of a tv that was currently on. The two people on the loveseats didn’t even look up when he walked in.

One bedroom was empty of anything save the table and chairs. In the second, the table was overflowing with snack foods. He saw doughnuts, bags and cans of chips and pretzels, bags of cookies and every sort of snack cake on the market. At one end was a stack of soda can boxes. Sam perused the table, noting that they had Jo’s favorite cheese popcorn and even had cases of single serving snack pies. Reaching out, he snagged an apple one to take back to Dean and a cherry one to share with Gwen later. He didn’t grab one for Jo, as she wouldn’t eat it anyway. She preferred bakery pies to the commercially processed snack pies.

He returned to the lounge and kitchenette. On the counter was a bowl of crackers, a tray of ice with a vegetable tray sitting on it, and a bowl of bite size Slim Jims. The carrots and broccoli were gone from the vegetable tray, only cauliflower, grape tomatoes, and pepper slices remaining. There was a table knife on the counter with what looked like peanut butter on it, though he saw no sign of peanut butter or even bread.

A woman entered the suite, slim and dark haired, carrying a large paper sack in her arms. Sam put her about Dean’s age. She set the bag down, huffed out a breath, and smiled at him. “Hi. I’m Risa.”

“Sam.” Why was the name Risa familiar to him? Did he know a Risa?

Amusement slid about her dark eyes. “Of course you are.” She began unpacking the bag, setting out three large loaves of bread and the biggest jar of peanut butter Sam had ever seen. “Can you believe someone made off with the peanut butter and bread?”

“They were hungry?”

“It was for everyone. Geez, it was even the good bread.”

“Good bread?” There was a difference?

“Yeah. The three buck a loaf or more stuff that makes a decent sandwich as opposed to the cheap sandwich stuff I got this time.” She gestured at the loaves. “I didn’t pay three bucks for them. I hit a sale. These loaves?” She picked one up. “Got them at the day old place. If people can’t behave, they don’t get good stuff.”

“Maybe you should have gotten them there to begin with.”

“Probably.” She opened the fridge and snorted. “Of course, now the jelly is gone, too.” Risa shut the fridge. “So if you’re Sam, where’s your Dean? Or do you have a Bobby, Ash, John, Bela, Ellen or Jo instead?”

He leaned against the counter. “I have Dean, Jo, and my wife with me.”

She studied him. “Your wife is…?”

“Gwen.”

“Not playing along then?” She busied herself with cleaning up the counter.

“Gwen’s pregnant.” She _was_ playing along, though, enjoying the convention like it was all one big joke.

“And there are no pregnant hunters in the books.” Risa glanced at him. “Who cares? If she likes a character, she should have fun with it. Not like people haven’t been doing AU scenarios the past day. That’s the big thing this con. I heard Becky got into an argument with someone over an AU scenario last night even.”

That had been him, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Coming was sort of spur of the moment.”

“Ahh.” She finished cleaning, grabbed a soda from one cooler on the floor, and opened it. “Hey, help yourself to food or soda. That’s what it’s here for.”

“I’m good, thanks.” He began to wonder if the two on the loveseats were asleep because neither had moved since he’d come in the suite. “Are you con staff?”

She laughed. “Me? Hell, no. I’m Becky’s neighbor. She asked me to come today as a favor, make sure the food stays replenished. She’s slightly short-staffed.” Risa shot a glance at her watch. “I have to leave soon for the author lunch, make sure Carver Edlund is where he’s supposed to be. He has a tendency to disappear for hours at a time and it’s driving Becky nuts. She sort of made me his handler today.”

“You a fan of the books, then?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I read them only for Becky. She started a Supernatural book club in our building,” she explained with a quirked brow. “There’s only five of us that go, but she tries so hard to keep it interesting that I keep going to support her. She’s a good kid, you know? Heart’s in the right place, even if she’s a little too enthusiastic at times. I wish I’d had that much enthusiasm for a book series at her age. I was still in school studying my butt off, though.”

“What do you do?”

“Lawyer.”

He raised a hand, thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I was that close to going to law school myself.”

“Very cool. Like…Sam. In the books.”

“Uh…yeah.”

They talked until it was time to leave for lunch. Sam walked with her down to the room where the luncheon was. Dean, Jo, and Gwen were already at a table close to the lone table at the front of the room. Sam assumed it was where Chuck was going to sit, as it only had one place setting.

Dean stood from his chair, a surprised expression crossing his face. “Risa.”

Jo’s brows rose and she crossed her arms.

Risa extended a hand. “Dean, right?”

He shook her hand. “Right. How --”

She turned to Jo. “You must be Jo and,” her glance flicked to Gwen, “Sam’s wife, Gwen.”

Gwen’s amused smile widened into a grin. “Sam’s told you about us.”

“He did. Pleasure to meet you all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure our author actually sits at the table he’s supposed to.”

When she’d gone, Jo looked at Dean. “Um…honey? How do you know her?”

“Uh…I told you about her.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

Jo shook her head. “No. I don’t remember her.”

“The vision of the end our good buddy Zach gave me?”

That was where Sam knew the name from. Dean had eventually told him about Zachariah’s vision.

“He wasn’t _my_ good buddy.” There was a flicker of distaste in her eyes. “She’s a real person then?”

“Apparently.”

“Hmm….” Jo turned in her chair to watch Risa talking to Chuck.

Sam sat down beside Gwen and set a hand on her stomach. She covered his hand with her own. After a second, he felt a movement beneath his palm. “How are you and baby doing?”

“Aside from having to pee every twenty minutes so far, we’re still peachy.” She studied him. “Any luck finding Becky?”

“No.”

“I’m sure you’ll find her. She can’t have disappeared. What’s the hurry? We have all day today and tomorrow to grab her.”

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “Are you sure you want to stay?”

Gwen grabbed his hand, threading their fingers together. “Yup.”

Another sigh, this one longer, slipped free and he waited for whatever this next hour would bring.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was up to something and it had been inevitable since Gwen and Jo had first brushed off the convention as nothing to be seriously concerned about. In fact, in her mind, Gwen had predicted just that action from him, so she wasn’t surprised by his performance at the panel. Jo shouldn’t have been surprised either.

She slouched in her chair and smothered a yawn, very ready for the luncheon to be over so they could go up to the room for awhile. Gwen was tired, hungry again, and needed a break from socializing. They all did. 

Jo watched Risa with narrowed eyes, turning in her chair as she grasped Chuck’s arm. “Why did he pick her to show you?”

Dean shrugged. “Only Zachariah knows that.”

“Why not someone else? Why not, I don’t know, why not Lisa? Why pick a woman you hadn’t met?”

“You’re asking me to somehow divine what was going on in that dick’s head? He wanted me to see myself in the worst light possible.”

“But why her?”

Jo wasn’t leaving it alone and Gwen wondered if she’d eventually call Castiel down and ask if he knew why Zachariah had chosen Risa to show Dean.

Sam didn’t appear to hear the exchange, sitting with his arms crossed glaring into space. He really wasn’t having a good time, which was a shame because Gwen was enjoying herself despite being tired.

Dean glanced around like he was looking for the next spot of trouble to start. “Jo, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. Pick a reason.”

Risa manhandled a protesting Chuck to his table and shoved him into the chair with a stern finger in his face, yet as soon as her back was turned, he spotted them, grabbed his silverware and glass, and came to their table.

“Hey guys. Um…could I sit with you?”

Gwen looked over her should for Risa and didn’t see her anywhere. “Aren’t you supposed to sit all by your lonesome and on display?”

He grimaced. “Becky made me do this lunch thing. I’d rather sit with people I know than alone.” He set the silverware and glass down in the space between Sam and Dean and sank into the empty chair there. Chuck slouched like Gwen was and leaned over a little to Sam. “Sam? Would you mind changing places with Gwen? You’re taller and will hide me from about half the room.”

“You’re the one published more books and came to this,” Sam pointed out, transferring his stare to Chuck. “You had no idea you’d actually have to be visible? Perceptive much?”

“Sam. Chill. I don’t mind moving.” Besides, it’d give her a better view of Marissa, who’d bullied the table beside them into vacating for her and her friends and was now trying to get Jo’s attention through hisses and waves of her hands that Jo ignored.

“You don’t have to move, Gwen. Chuck can deal with it. It’s his job.” He was anticipating her reply, however, standing and waiting for her to move to his former chair.

“I want to. Then you don’t have to glare at the entire room. You can glare at the wall and ignore everyone.” He wasn’t amused, scowling at her, and she decided he needed a nap as much as she was starting to. Gwen sat in the chair and caught his hand, tugging so he leaned down to her. “Will you lighten up already? Even Dean is okay with free food.” She jerked her chin in his direction. Dean was reading the menu and nodding as he read.

Sam crouched down. “I don’t find this fun, Gwen. I’ll never find this fun. We should be on the way home or to somewhere else that’s not _here_.”

“You don’t have to stay for lunch. Go to the room and relax. Watch a movie or something.”

“I don’t want to watch a movie alone or go to the room alone. I want all four of us to do what we planned and have a vacation together instead of two of you going to this and dragging us --”

“Don’t be a grumpy butt, Sam,” Jo said across the table, “and use your inside voice. We’ll leave the hotel tomorrow, okay?”

Beside her, Dean shook his head slightly, though Gwen wasn’t sure if it was in response to Jo or something on the menu. Could be either or both.

Sam flicked a glance to Jo and back to Gwen. “Look, I’m down here because you’re here and I want to be where you are, especially now.” He rested a hand on her stomach. “I’ll feel better when we’ve put this behind us, but don’t expect me to pretend to have fun.”

She touched his cheek, rubbed a thumb across his cheekbone. “We’ll do something you want to do soon. Promise. A few more hours. Tomorrow is all yours, okay?”

He nodded. “We’ll see.”

Jo tapped the table with a hand to get Chuck’s attention. “Why did Zachariah show Dean Risa?”

“Um…” He looked at all of them and back to Jo. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? You’re the prophet, Chuck. You’re the _writer_. You wrote all this stuff down. Why her?”

He moved his silverware back and forth and looked down at the table. “He was just trying to make Dean do what he wanted any way he could. You know what he was like. He tried to make _you_ do what he wanted, too.”

“But why her? Why not make up someone?”

“Um…maybe you’d better ask Cas or something because….” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Zachariah left a record of his reasons and Cas could find out.”

Jo snorted. “You’re no help.”

His gaze was apologetic. “Yeah, I know.”

Risa came back once, rolled her eyes, but didn’t attempt to remove Chuck from their table. Lunch was uneventful to start with. Chuck stayed as close to the table as possible and pretended to be deep in conversation with one of them when anyone approached the table. The food came out hot and prompt.

But then an overly enthusiastic feminine voice sounded. “Do the Dean-Jo bit! Please!”

A young woman, not one of Marissa’s group, stood beside Dean, her phone in hand. Gwen guessed she was planning on recording it.

A scowl formed on Dean’s face. That expression was getting old from he and Sam both. He dropped his silverware onto his plate with a loud clatter. “No. We’re not doing the Dean-Jo _bit_.” He gestured back and forth between them. “This is who we are, not to mention we’re eating, sister. How about I pester you when you’re eating? You like that? Nothing better than trying to take a bite and having someone want you to do the Dean-Jo bit when there isn’t a damn bit to be done. Bother someone else.”

“He really doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s eating, so maybe later,” Jo told her.

The woman blinked and slowly smiled. “Thank you!” She hurried off back to her own table.

Dean gulped in a breath and Gwen saw a trickle of sweat run down his temple. While he’d started the day just fine, it looked to her like a panic attack was imminent. He focused his attention on his plate, picked up his fork and began to push food around without taking a bite.

Jo flagged the nearest server. “Hi. There’s a hefty tip in it for you if you bring me a whiskey --”

“Jo, it’s not even noon,” Gwen told her, glancing at her watch. “You don’t drink before noon. Hell, you usually don’t drink before five.”

“Make that a vodka collins then, light on the vodka and keep them coming. Big tip, remember.”

“Make that two,” Dean said, his voice a bit ragged sounding.

The server nodded and left.

Chuck kept his head down, avoided making any eye contact, and shoveled in his food as though afraid it was going to be snatched away before he could finish it.

Gwen pushed her plate aside and peered at Dean. “Dean?” He was looking pale now under the lights.

“You know,” Sam sat back and crossed his arms, “we could still leave. It _is_ an option.”

Dean looked up. His jaw squared like he was gritting his teeth, and then he was pushing his chair back and leaving the table and the room.

Sam watched him go and sighed.

Jo frowned. “Think he’d mind if I took his drink when it comes and he’s not back?” 

Gwen waited for Sam or Jo to get up and go after him and when neither did she asked, “Shouldn’t one of us go after him?”

“Why? He’s just trying to get a reaction out of me, like during the panel. He’s fine, Gwen.” Jo finally gave in to Marissa’s hisses for her and turned in her chair to talk to her.

Sam slowly got up and leaned down to say in Gwen’s ear, “He’s faking it, okay? He’s got this plan to convince Jo and you that this convention is serious and faking attacks is a part of that. He planned it all out last night before we even came back from karaoke.”

It had looked genuine to her. The sweat, the gritted teeth, the way he’d lost interest in his lunch, and how pale he’d gone in seconds. That wasn’t faking it. He was really having a panic attack, though she wasn’t sure what could have set it off. All they’d been doing was having lunch. “I’d figured he had some kind of plan, but go make sure he’s okay.”

“Gwen.”

“Sam, do it. Check on him for me. If he was faking, tell him he was too convincing and I’m really worried.”

He straightened. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Chuck slid down further in his chair. “So, Gwen…. Could you go back to that chair until Sam comes back? Thanks….”

With a roll of her eyes, she moved chairs…and caught sight of someone at the back of the room that she was certainly going to look for later.

Teddy the Trickster.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was a bad idea. Dean realized that only minutes after the luncheon began in earnest. He was sitting next to Chuck, on the side of the table the was in the direct line of sight to most of the room. People were staring at him. Maybe not at him, but it felt like they were watching him and this wasn’t like the last convention they’d ended up at. This was a lot of people. He tried to concentrate on eating, yet as the minutes passed, he thought he could actually feel eyes on him.

He hated that sensation. Someone was watching him, staring at him, but when he looked up, he couldn’t figure out who it was.

Dean tried to eat, but all he could think of was a future time when his son would be in the same position, having stumbled upon these people. He didn’t want Jack to have to deal with this. He didn’t want Jack to have his own creepy Becky stalking him.

Sweat began to pool in the small of his back an under his arms, and he felt it trickling down his face. His shirt felt damp against his skin, the room blazing hot and everything in sharp focus.

He wasn’t going to have to fake an attack, at least not right now.

The same panicky sensation came over him that he’d felt before, the need to get up and move tugging at him and after the girl left, he couldn’t stop himself. He had to get out of there. He could hear his own breaths, a wheezing in his ears.

He left the room, moving down the hallway, searching for any place that didn’t have convention goers, finally finding a section of hallway where he could pace until he could breathe normally again.

“Dean?”

Sam was behind him and he turned. “Can’t breathe, Sammy.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Can’t take a breath. I’m…..” Dean turned away, putting his hands on the wall and half bending, head lowering. His breaths kept getting louder and louder.

Sam’s body blocked sight of the hallway. “You’re having a real one.” He sounded surprised by that.

Dean nodded and gasped with extreme sarcasm, “You think?” 

“What set it off?”

“I don’t know! I was thinking about this and Jack and there it was.” He found himself pushed towards the stairs, Sam shoving him none too gently. “What are you doing?”

“Outside. Go.”

Once they were outside, the sensation began to ease and he leaned against the wall of the hotel. The breeze felt wonderful, cooling him down, and slowly, his breathing eased. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Can we forget this stupid plan and leave? You had the start of a real panic attack, Dean. That’s not good. Gwen’s concerned. She sent me after you.”

“We’re not leaving.” He was feeling better. He was. “It won’t happen again. Go back in. I’ll be in in a minute.”

“Won’t happen…. Dean. You have a history of these and we still aren’t sure what’ll set one off. You’re not fine and you’re flirting with disaster by even thinking about faking one.”

It took a good ten minutes of arguing before Sam would go back inside. Dean took another moment to compose himself, but didn’t head towards the luncheon. Instead, he ventured into the bar. The room was mostly empty. 

Dave was there he saw and he wasn’t surrounded by a group of giggling women. He had an empty plate and half full beer bottle in front of him. His bodyguard was at a table by the door. 

He sat at the bar just down from him and ordered a beer, remembering the expression he’d seen on Dave’s face after that fan had tried to climb up him. It seemed they had a couple things in common right off the bat. He waited until the bartender brought his beer. “Hey.”

Dave glanced his way, did a double take, and half turned. “Hey. You’re the guy from the panel.” 

“About earlier --”

“No problem.” Dave tapped his beer bottle on the bar. It was the same brand Dean preferred. “I’ve met a few passionate fans before.”

“I’m not exactly a fan.”

He snorted. “No, really? You know, you should wait until the movie comes out before complaining about my portrayal in some way. Or complaining about any of it. It’s sort of like the Trek reboot. Chris warned me to expect this.”

“Chris Pine?”

“Yeah. We worked on a movie together a few years back.

“He warned you about this.” Dean pointed a finger and tapped it on the bar.

“He was up for the role, too, but they decided he was too old. We talked a little about fandoms.”

“The character…. Dean. He’s… You could say he’s very… _close_ to me.”

Dave shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever. Just so you know, I fought for the character. The director wanted to make him all wussy and I’ve read the books. I did my homework. One thing Dean isn’t is wussy. He may be complicated, with issues up the wazoo, and have a hidden emotional streak, but that doesn’t make him wussy. Dean gets things done.”

“Damn straight.” They drank in silence a moment. Dean glanced at him. Maybe David Angle really could pull him off on the big screen. “I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“The guy playing Sam. What’s he like?”

“Darrin? Nice guy. Fun to be around. We had a pretty good time on set. The prank war we had going….”

They talked, discovering common interests and common problems. Dean decided he sort of liked the guy. He tuned back in to what Dave was saying.

“ -- mystery, you know?”

“I hear you,” Dean said. “Women. I thought I was never going to get in my wife’s pants when we were dating. She had that self-respect thing going on. Plus, we kept getting interrupted. Had this friend Cas that stopped by at the wrong moment a couple times and Sam interrupted by accident --”

“Come on.” he half grinned. “Your names are _really_ Sam and Dean?”

“Cross my heart, Dave. Born with ‘em.”

“And your wife is Jo?”

“Joanna. Yup. Prefers Jo.”

“Wild coincidence.” He didn’t sound like he quite believed him. “You know, I haven’t actually gone out with Rose, but she’s damn cute. Always working when I’m not. I go in the shop with a book and drink more fancy coffee than I should just to see her. I look at her in that shop, with her apron tied low….” He whistled. “Hot little body and the way she looks at me? I’d jump her right there if we were alone.” Dave sighed. “We’re never alone. And now, there’s this girl keeps showing up. Maria? Miranda?”

“Marissa?”

“Yeah, her. I just start to ask Rose if she wants to get a drink or food or something and Marissa shows up like she has radar that knows when I’m making headway.”

“I know the feeling.”

Behind them came the sound a of a throat clearing and Dean glanced back. Dave’s bodyguard stood there. “Time to sign.”

“I’ve got to go, Dean,” Dave said, finishing his beer and setting the bottle down. “Autograph time and another photo op.”

“You and Goliath come on up to the suite when you’re done.”

“We’ll be there. Probably close to three-thirty. Text me if plans change.”

“Will do.” Goliath wasn’t the bodyguard’s name, but since he was bigger than Sam, the nickname fit. Dean headed to the room, feeling much calmer than he had earlier.

~~~~~~~~~~

After telling Gwen that Dean had had a real attack yet claimed he was fine, to which she quirked a brow in mute comment, he wandered the convention, trying to see what Gwen was seeing. He just didn’t think of this as funny. Their lives weren’t something to be gawked at and that was what these people were doing. He’d felt that way before and felt that way now.

Pulling the program from his pocket, he glanced through it again, but didn’t see anything he was interested in going to. Frankly, he was bored. At least the last one had ended up as a job. Plus, there was no sign of Becky still other than that first time in the hall that morning.

Sam returned to the room. Gwen, Jo and Dean had all beat him up there. Jo was talking about how annoying Marissa was and Dean was flipping through channels on the tv.

Gwen tugged him into their room and closed the door. “Come here.” She motioned him to her bag. “I’ve got something for you.”

“What?”

“I was saving this for later, but I think you can use it now.”

“What is it?” He sat on the end of the bed and watched her root around in her bag.

“I know this was supposed to be a vacation and all, but under normal circumstances you and I’d be hitting this point anyway….” With a satisfied smile, she drew out two folders. “I may have found a couple possible cases before we left. Cursed object from Artie Holt’s business dealings has apparently surfaced in a magic act here and four beheadings in the past month, the heads missing.” She handed him the folders.

“That could be something.” That could really be something, he decided, glancing through the file on the beheadings.

“I agree. All the info is in the folders. You can check them out the rest of the day, see if there’s anything we need to investigate in either one. It’ll keep you busy while we’re finishing up here and you don’t have to stay here all bored and mopey.”

He smiled. “You found a couple cases for me.”

“Of course. Possible ones. Little ones. Nothing big.” She shrugged. “I’d go with you, but I need to rest awhile and I really want to check out the women of the series discussion in an hour.”

Sam embraced her, resting his cheek against her breasts. Her hands slid through his hair. He’d feel better if they left, but that wasn’t going to happen, so maybe it was best if he took these folders and occupied himself with work. “So much for the vacation.”

“Like we ever actually have real vacations anyway.”

“True. You lying down for a bit before the discussion?”

“I should. Join me?”

He laid down with her, woke up when her timer went off half an hour later, and gave her a kiss before she left. Sam took the folders into the main room and began to work.


	8. Chapter 8

The afternoon wasn’t nearly over and Gwen was getting bored of the whole fandom thing, though she still found it hilarious. She and Jo had decided to go off on their own for awhile after the Women of Supernatural discussion, but as far as she knew, Jo had gone back to the room and hadn’t left. The last time she’d checked in, Sam had finished up extra research on the beheadings and was getting ready to leave the hotel to do some legwork. Dean was in the room. She didn’t speculate on what he was doing because it’d be one of two things: having a real panic attack or pretending to have one for Jo’s benefit. 

She did some shopping in a boutique, found a shirt for Sam to replace one that had ripped, and picked up several items for the baby, then returned to the hotel, peering in first the restaurant, then the bar, to see if Jo was back downstairs yet.

Teddy was in the bar, holding a drink and grinning in a delighted way at the group of people present, over half of whom were dressed like Sam and Dean -- or Bobby, Jo, Ellen, or others. Getting Sam and Dean to identify the costumes had been like pulling teeth with pliers that didn’t grip right. She still wasn’t sure who was who outside of those she already knew.

Gwen approached Teddy and slid onto the barstool beside him. “Afternoon, Teddy. Working?” It was an attempt to make him think she knew he was pulling the strings here if it was really him doing this.

Turning his head, he gave her a long once over and saluted her with his drink. “Gwen. Darling. You really are pushing out that hunter dick’s kid.”

“Not presently, but in a few weeks, yeah.”

“Guess I should congratulate you, since I neglected to the last time I saw you.”

“Sure. But don’t feel bad. It was a little hectic then, what with trying to keep from dying and all.”

“That it was.” He half turned, resting an elbow on the bar. “I assume you’ve seen my little troublemaker since you found me here?”

“I have. Sophie looks good…considering.”

“Considering? Hey, I treat her right. She tell you we took down a small vamp nest a couple weeks ago?”

“No. You did it together?” She hadn’t expected that. A monster taking out monsters? Then again, Teddy wasn’t the usual brand of monster. “Was the nest particularly arrogant and in need of a lesson?”

“Of course they were and of course we did it together. Decapitated four of the things. You think I’d let her get hurt? She’s going to be the mother of my next kid.”

Four vampires decapitated. Like the job she’d handed Sam earlier. Well, at least looking into it got him out of the hotel for awhile. “So you really are trying.”

“ _That_ she tells you.” He rolled his eyes. “Chicks.” He flagged the bartender. “Virgin daiquiri for the lady.” Teddy glanced back at her. “Unless you’d accept a drink I make?”

“I’ll take the real one, thanks.”

“Mine are real.”

“I’ll bet. No telling what’s in them, either.”

Once she had her liquor-free drink, he smirked and gestured at the crowd. “I was following this fat misogynistic asshole and he led me here. It’s like an early Christmas present. Then I find all of you here, too? You show me the best time, Gwen.”

“This isn’t your doing?” She watched him carefully, but he was _too_ admiring of the room for it to be his work, awed even.

“Nope.” He whistled. “Whoever thought this up is pure genius of a level I’ll never reach. Have you seen the book table yet? And the books? Tall Tales, Gwen. Check it out. I highly recommend it. Features me.” Pulling it from his back pocket, he set it down on the bar.

“You you or Gabriel you?”

“Yup.” He didn’t answer the question, sipping his drink instead. She didn’t think Sam and Dean would ever know for sure just when they’d met Teddy himself. “Take it. I can get another copy. I plan to read the entire saga.”

“Maybe I will.”

“This is an absurdist’s paradise.”

“Don’t have to tell me that.” She’d already noted that herself.

“Sam and Dean against Sam and Dean against Sam and Dean.”

“And Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Ash, Bela, assorted monsters….”

He waved a hand. “I know! Tell me. How are the dickweed duo taking it?”

“As can be expected, but you know that, don’t you? I saw you at the luncheon. You were watching them both.”

His laugh was near a cackle. “I couldn’t resist pushing Dean’s buttons a little.”

“Not nice, Teddy.”

“Big deal. Dean-o can handle a little staring. And Jo? How’s she doing with all this?”

“Fairly mellow since she started drinking with lunch. Girls have been asking for her autograph because she never breaks character. Jo is always Jo.”

“Imagine that. A woman being herself.”

Gwen set the drink aside untouched. “You’re really not doing this? You didn’t create a reality and shove us all in it? The truth, Teddy.” Strangely enough, she thought he really _would_ tell her the truth.

“The truth is I _wish_ I was doing this. The technique, the timing. All the pieces. It’s got to be Him.”

“Him?”

“God. Him. The Big Guy. Stepping back in place. He’s the Master, Gwen, and I can only admire Him, never be Him. I can never attain perfection of situation.”

“Chuck said it was Him, too. Dean and Sam thought you might be involved.”

“Well, it’s a reasonable assumption. I did mention alternate realities and threaten to shove them in one and I do live here, but…no. I’m just an observer this time.” He was sad about that, his gaze a tad mournful.

“If that’s true --”

He pressed a hand to his chest with a wounded frown. “Gwen. I’m being entirely truthful here. Besides, Sophie’d have my balls if I messed with all of you again. Chick’s kind of nuts, you know.”

“And yet, you’re apparently with her,” she pointed out.

“Yeah. There’s nuts and there’s nuts and her kind of nuts is sort of my kind of nuts. What can I say? I live for danger.”

“Sophie is certainly dangerous.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Mmm. I love that edge.” He clinked his glass to hers. “To Sophie.”

Gwen pretended to take a sip. “Enjoy your edge, Teddy. Just, if you’re telling the truth, you might not want Sam and Dean to see you. They’ll kill first and ask questions later.”

Finishing his drink, he set the glass on the bar. “Good point. I should put on camouflage.”

She pointed a stern finger at him. “Do not turn into Sam.”

Teddy sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m with Sam and not you, isn’t it?”

He eyed her and frowned. “True. Congrats and all on the rugrat.” Teddy sauntered away and was lost in the crowd.

Gwen motioned to the bartender. “Hi. Could I get another one of these in strawberry? Virgin. Thanks.” After a moment, she picked up the book and put it in her bag of purchases.

Jo appeared in the doorway. Behind her were Marissa and three other girls. Even from where Gwen sat, she could see that Jo was still snockered. The snacks she’d eaten during the discussion hadn’t soaked up much of the alcohol in her system. Jo maneuvered her way over to Gwen and announced, “Dean won’t leave the room now. He had a full on panic attack. Sam had to keep him from carrying me bodily out to the car.”

The words were in surround sound, though a few seconds late, as three of the girls repeated them, obviously trying to copy Jo’s manner and inflections. Jo didn’t rebuke them, probably because it’d do no good. Or maybe she didn’t even notice them anymore, taking Becky’s approach to the things she didn’t like and ignoring them.

“When I left, he was on the floor in the bathroom with all the water running threatening to get the guns from the Impala and go postal on the convention.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Trying to talk him back down again.”

Had he even made it out of the hotel? Since he hadn’t texted her to get up there and help with Dean, Gwen concluded it was only a fake attack.

One girl raised a tentative hand. “Um…Jo?”

She half turned her head in that direction and managed to both smile and grit her teeth. “What?”

“Where in the books does it say Dean has panic attacks?”

“You think running to make a deal with a demon over his brother dying wasn’t a panic attack?”

“It totally was,” Marissa hurried to agree, nudging the other girl hard in the ribs with an elbow. “See Nicki. I told you. They’re like so in character that he even does the panic thing.”

Three of the girls sighed. The fourth, the one David Angle had talked to at karaoke, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in a manner that was more Jo than anything else. Out of the four, Gwen thought she might make the most convincing Jo despite looking the least like her.

The one on the blue version of Jo’s pink blouse shook her head. “Wow. I wish I had that sort of focus.”

“Well you don’t so…shoo.” Jo made a shoo-ing motion at them. “Mama Jo needs a drink in peace.”

Marissa held out a hand, but had apparently learned not to touch Jo (likely through many hand slaps), for she stopped just shy of touching her arm. “You’re still coming to the discussion on Dean’s ladies, right? You have to. Ann-Marie needs to be put in her place because Bela is so not Dean’s soul mate like she thinks. Don’t forget. It starts soon.”

“I can’t wait.” Her tone indicated otherwise. Hoisting herself onto the barstool Teddy had vacated, she watched the girls walk off. “I am in hell,” she said with a cheery grin. “Fandom hell.”

“Girls still won’t leave you alone?”

“Apparently, I am their role model. Me. I’m a role model, Gwen, and not just me, me, but me here right now.”

“God save us all. What’s wrong with you being a role model? I’d think most of those girls could use some backbone.”

“Marissa took up knife-throwing, though she has no aim and has gone through six teachers in as many months. Nicki learned to shoot, but her aim is as bad as Marissa’s. Hayley bought an Impala that hasn’t seen the outside of a mechanic’s garage in over a year and Rose…. Rose is actually the normal one. I sort of like Rose.”

“Which one is Rose?”

“The only one here because she personally knows David Angle. She’s the one he went to talk to last night and keeps trying to get them to do something besides follow me around. She’s got this massive crush on Dave. I guess he’s a regular at the coffee shop she works at and she only got into the fandom so she could keep talking to him. Doesn’t quite have the courage to ask him out though, something about him being an actor and she thinks he’s out of her league. I don’t know.”

“That sounds normal.”

“It is, but they’re all so fricken’ naïve.”

“So were we all once.” Many, many long years ago.

“Yeah. I need more alcohol. I’m starting to sober up.” Once she had a beer in hand, she adjusted her position on the stool. “Did I see Teddy earlier?”

“He stopped by,” Gwen admitted. “He’s getting a kick out of this, but it’s not his doing.”

“Too bad. If it was, he could make it all go away.”

Gwen peered at her. Jo was looking tired. “Are you being swayed to Dean and Sam’s view on this?”

Jo thought about the question. “I’ve tried to be cheerful and keep calm, but do you have any idea how annoying this is? I’ve heard the conversations Dean and I had in Philadelphia something like fifty times now and one argument I had with my mother close to thirty times. Then there are the conversations that sound just like Dean and Sam, so they must be in those books somewhere. One guy pretending to be Dean tried to say hi to me and had an asthma attack. Another started stammering. I think it was the first time he’d ever talked to a girl.” 

“Aww…that’s kind of cute.” Gwen could see it, too. A nervous guy, sort of nerdy, wanting desperately to be just like Dean, approaching Jo just to say hello and not being able to get it out. The male fans were a mixed bag: either nerdy and pretending to be what they weren’t or average guys who could pass for Dean or Sam in some way in everyday life.

“If I’m not getting asked for my autograph for being a stellar LARPer, I’m getting costuming, hair, and technique questions. Oh, and I’m also getting questions on my ‘real’ self.” She did air quotes on the one word. “Between Teddy last time and this convention this time, Las Vegas is totally ruined for me.” She took a long drink. “Someone should assassinate Fate because of this and it might just be me. You’re lucky, Gwen. You’re not even in it yet.”

“Not in it? _In it_? Do you hear yourself? Jo, I’m married to Sam and we’re having a baby. I’d say that means I’m in it.” 

“I mean the books.”

“I’m….” She sighed. She _was_ in the books. Those books simply weren’t published yet. It was like hearing Becky again. Gwen took the bottle from her and set it down on the bar before standing and tugging lightly on Jo’s arm. “Come on.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“We’re leaving the hotel. I think we can take awhile and go outside.” She texted Sam, told him she and Jo were going for a walk, and guided Jo outside of the hotel. A little exercise, not to mention a break from anything resembling the convention, would do her good. “You realize that doing shots every time you think you hear Marissa’s voice is exactly what Dean was hoping for.”

“I haven’t been doing shots.”

“No, but you’ve pretty much had a drink in your hand since lunchtime. Use your brain here. What’s he think of this drinking you’re doing? He knows it’s not normal and he knows Marissa is getting to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he put her up to it, or encouraged her somehow.” Probably part of the plan Sam had told her about.

Jo paused in the middle of the sidewalk, her eyes widening and lips parting. “Damn. You’re right. He’d totally encourage her if he thought it’d bring me to his side on this.”

“I think you should sober up, ignore her, and,” she couldn’t help the mischievous turn to her lips, “pay attention to what’s going on around you.”

“She’s annoying, Gwen. I really want to shoot her or something.”

“Come on, Jo. This is funny. It is.”

They started walking again, Jo putting her hands in her pockets. “I thought it was, too…until I started noticing the conversations and the group began following me around repeating everything I say.”

“Think about it this way if it helps. You’re so awesome all the way around, that they want to be you. It’s flattering.”

Jo slid a sidelong glance her way. “Are you flattered by Becky? Because…she wants to be you. To have Sam, I mean. You said it yourself. She’s got a massive crush on him and has for years apparently.”

“I’m reserving judgment on Becky. Haven’t even seen her again since last night.” Which was sort of strange. She should be visible today of all days. “You don’t think something happened to her, do you?”

“If Sam found her maybe….”

“Sam wouldn’t kill her. Threaten her, yeah. Kill her, no.”

Jo glanced at her watch. “I need to get back. Dean’s Ladies starts in fifteen minutes and I need to get a good seat. Want to come with?”

“I need to drop this,” she held up the bag, “at the room, but sure. Sounds like it could be interesting.”

Jo went to get seats while Gwen went to the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

It would be nice if he could get past the lobby before Dean called wanting him to come back for one reason or another. At this rate, Sam wasn’t going to get any investigating done at all. This time Dean wanted him for a performance. He had to pretend he really thought Dean was having a panic attack and keep him from carrying Jo to the car. It worked. Barely.

“I can’t believe she bought that.” Getting up off the floor, Dean turned off the water.

Neither could Sam. “She’s a little tipsy, Dean.” Actually, she was beyond tipsy and it was the only reason Jo hadn’t called him out. He was lucky.

“She’s a _lot_ tipsy, but that was one of my worst acting attempts. I may have even overdone it on the head grabbing and sobbing.”

“ _May_ have?” Sam crossed his arms. 

“I’ve got it all figured out. The wives have panels, lectures, and things all afternoon and evening. We hunker down here, get room service, and wait. Dave and his bodyguard are coming up in a bit. We could play poker or something. Watch a movie. I don’t know.”

“Wait. You invited the actor playing you to come here to the suite?” Why in God’s name would he do that? And why would David Angle even come -- _especially_ after Dean’s performance at his panel that morning?

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“I sort of felt sorry for him. He’s trying to get laid with this barista chick he knows and Marissa keeps interrupting.”

“She is somewhat annoying….” Dean’s lips stretched in a satisfied grin, clueing Sam in that he’d done something about that. “You’re the one sicced Marissa on Jo.”

“To be fair, Marissa was already crushing on her from the slot machines, but I may have implied that Jo is enjoying Marissa’s company and the opportunity to impart the genius of her playacting wisdom.”

“When did you do that?”

“After you went to bed last night, I came down to get a beer and ran into her in the hall. We chatted, I charmed her.”

A slow smile tugged at Sam’s lips. “Dude, you are so not getting laid when Jo finds out you did that. Marissa is the cause of her current state of inebriation. She _will_ find out.”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Might want to have a plan in place.”

“I’ll wing it.”

“How often has ‘winging it’ ever really worked out for you with Jo?”

“What are you talking about? It works out all the time.”

Sam waited while Dean considered the truthfulness of that statement. Slowly, he saw comprehension slide across Dean’s face as memories of times it hadn’t worked out came back to him.

He shook a finger at Sam. “We should have a plan in place.”

“What’s this _we_ you’re talking about?”

“You know Gwen won’t be all thrilled with you going along with this.”

“She’s enjoying herself.”

“For now. Until the crazy gets on her. Poor woman can’t even drink to dull the experience.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Totally depends on who you’re asking.”

He went to the table to pick up the files again. Maybe he should run out of the hotel? “She already knows, anyway. I told her earlier.”

There was silence for several long seconds. “I knew it. You tell her everything, Sam. Next you’ll be telling Jo my plan.”

“I do not and I won’t tell Jo no matter how dumb I think this is. Gwen already thought you were up to something before I said anything. I told you, our wives aren’t dumb, Dean. If Jo wasn’t half on her ass right now, she would’ve figured it out.” He checked to make sure he had his room keycard. “Have fun. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Where are you going?”

“I want to check something out.”

“We’re on vacation.”

“This is not a vacation, Dean. This is you making a point to Jo and her trying to make one back and Gwen having a blast by herself, like she’s some kind of sociologist studying the natives. It’s not a vacation. In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t take vacations. We try and try and never quite get one, so I’m working a case. Feel free to forget your stupid plan and join me.”

“I can’t leave now. Got guests coming.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll be back.”

This time, he got out of the hotel without a call or text from Dean.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from ‘Dean Man’s Blood’, S1.

Jo paced in front of the door where the discussion would be. There was a sign on it that the time had been changed and they now had an hour to kill.

Something had been bothering her since lunch and, as she’d caught a glimpse of Risa at the end of the hall a few minutes earlier, she’d realized what it was.

It was Risa herself that bothered her.

Risa was the name of Abigael’s vessel. She remembered now that Dean had recognized her that first time they’d met Abigael and explained about who she was and how he knew her. He’d used that same explanation here, but the only characteristics this Risa shared with vessel Risa, besides name, were height, build, hair color and a vague resemblance in facial features. This Risa didn’t really look like Abby’s Risa, who Dean had claimed was in Zachariah’s vision of the future, so why had Dean thought this one today was her?

Both women were named Risa, but they weren’t the same. Couldn’t be. This wasn’t a case of Abby’s vessel out and about while Abby did angel business unvesseled. Risa here wasn’t that first Risa Dean had claimed to know from Zachariah’s vision.

Dean was lying about her, but why? Why would he lie about the woman?

Gwen returned, minus the shopping bag and carrying her jacket. “Man, I wish they’d turn on the air in here. I’m sweltering!” She read the sign. “Oh, good, we can go back to look at the dealer tables. I need a new keychain. I sort of like the Impala ones.”

“Sure. Hey, you remember Risa?”

They started back towards the main convention room. “The woman at lunch who marched Chuck to a table?”

“Mm-hmm. Do you remember the last time we were all here in Las Vegas?”

“Of course I remember the last time we were here. I had a bum ankle, Sam and I had a revelation about each other, and Teddy had you and Dean really going.”

“Right, but we met _Abigael_ for the first time.” She raised her brows and waited for Gwen to get her point. It didn’t take long.

“Yeah. Wait,” she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and fanned herself with her program, “wasn’t her vessel named Risa?” She nodded. “She was. I remember. Dean gave the same explanation he did today. Zachariah. But….” Gwen stopped walking. “She doesn’t look like Abigael. Superficially a little maybe, but not like twins separated at birth or anything. This Risa isn’t Abigael’s Risa at all, which means she isn’t the same Risa, right?”

“Exactly. So why did Dean think he saw vessel Risa who he said then was the Risa from the vision?”

“Are you sure he thought he saw her?”

She shook her head, touching Gwen’s arm with one hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you sure he hadn’t seen this Risa last night or this morning and didn’t think you’d remember that vision Risa was Abigael’s vessel? We’ve never really talked about Risa the vessel. We talk about Abigael and to her. We know her. We never talk about her vessel, like we never talk about Castiel’s vessel or any of the other vessels. Are you positive Dean wasn’t trying to get you worked up?”

“Son of bitch.” As hard as he was trying to sway her? Yes, he’d totally use the name coincidence and physical resemblance to work at her. “That _dick_.” She crossed her arms. “I will nail him to the wall.”

“At the rate this is going, the ride home is going to be interesting.”

She needed to make sure, but how. An idea hit her. “Let’s settle it before I accuse him of lying.” Jo started back towards the hall they’d just left. Risa had been there a few minutes earlier, so maybe she was still there.

“What are you going to do?” Gwen followed her at a slower pace than she set and Jo slowed down a little.

“Talk to her.”

“And what are you going to say?”

“I’ll be absolutely polite and delightful.”

“Sure.” Gwen sounded like she didn’t believe her.

There she was, sitting on a bench reading a book -- not one of the Supernatural books. “Risa,” Jo called. She called it three more times as they approached. Finally at the last time, the woman looked up and stammered a reply.

“Um…yeah? Hi? Sorry.”

Jo shot Gwen a triumphant look. “You’re name isn’t Risa, is it?”

The woman sighed as though relieved. “Well, it sort of could be. Theresa.” She held up her jacket and pointed to the lapel. The nametag fixed there did read ‘Theresa’. “I usually go by Terri though.”

“Why did you tell Sam your name was Risa?”

“Honestly? The guy at your table, the one with the short hair? Paid me fifty bucks to introduce myself to everyone I met all day as Risa. Said it was some sort of joke. Harmless. Easy fifty bucks, right? I’m not sure what the joke was though.”

Jo drew in a breath, put her hands on her hips, and half turned away from Terri. Unbelievable. Dean was unbelievable. She cleared her throat and turned back. “I’ll give you another fifty to go up to that guy today and tell him you had a vision about you two where it was the end of the world, you were together in some sort of camp, and were going out to kill Lucifer.”

“Kill Lucifer.” Terri’s brows raised. “Is this some sort of Supernatural themed prank war?”

“Something like that,” Gwen told her.

“What if he wants to know details?”

Jo bit her lip, trying to remember everything Dean had ever told her about that vision. “Tell him Cas was there, only not like he is now. A hippy almost. And Chuck was there, but Sam wasn’t.” She continued on, giving her details Dean had mentioned.

Gwen laughed. “This is only going to escalate, isn’t it?”

“Hey, he’s the douche who paid a woman to pretend to be someone else, then convinced another to bother me all day. I think a little payback is in order.” She pulled several folded bills from her pocket, separated a fifty and held it out to Terri.

After a moment, Terri took it and slipped it into her jeans pocket. “It’s your money, lady.”

“You remember what he looks like?”

“Sure. Sort of like David Angle only not as good looking.”

“Not as….” She forced herself not to say that Dave was the one not as good looking as Dean. “Right. Next time you see him, okay?”

“Definitely.”

Action taken, Jo started back towards the main room.

Gwen fell in step beside her. “You trying to freak him out now?”

“No. He’ll know I put her up to it and know I’m on to him. Maybe then he’ll stop.”

“Think about what you just said. He won’t stop until he thinks his point has been made and he won’t think his point has been made until you’re wanting to both stop Chuck publishing and leave.”

She was right and Jo knew it. “I don’t care if Chuck publishes for awhile longer.”

“But…?”

“But I kind of get what Dean might be thinking. If this goes really mainstream, like it could be heading into because of the movie coming out, it could be bad for us all. I mean, look at Becky’s reaction to you and --” At the doorway into the room, Jo stopped her. There, looking around like she was searching for someone, was Marissa. She dragged Gwen to one side, out of Marissa’s sight. “Damn it. I’m not ready to have her badgering me again.” She snatched the program from Gwen and flipped through it, searching for the page for Saturday. There had to be something else they could do until time for the discussion.

“Her reaction to me and Sam. Yeah, not good. Others might start figuring out that it’s real. Their names and subject matter once is coincidence, but more than that? Something going on.” Gwen leaned against the wall. “And eventually, if it went on long enough, he’d get to the part about our kids and then they’d be in there.” She frowned. “Jo, I just don’t see him being able to publish all of those manuscripts he has in backlog before public interest in the series dies out. If he stopped when Dean went to hell, then that’s a lot of time that’s gone by. That’d be a lot of manuscripts. It’d take years to even get to where I entered the picture and where Castiel found you.”

“There was enough interest for him to start up again and be moderately successful this time around and interest could keep up. The horror genre is big and has been for a long time. Look at some other prolific authors out there. I mean not just in the genre. James Patterson always has a new book coming out.”

“True, but is Chuck any good? If he’s good, there’s more of a chance of him being able to continue a long time. Have you read any of the books?”

“No, just the part I saw in the one I picked up last night while Dean was going ballistic. Born Under a Bad Sign. Takes place when I was on my own, before Mom found me. Sam was possessed --”

“How? He has a tattoo.”

“Before they got those.”

“Oh. I’d thought their dad insisted they get them when they were old enough.”

“No, no. As far as I know, John didn’t have a protection tattoo. He hadn’t thought of that. What I read was okay. Not great literature, of course, but, you know, average for the genre.”

“You know the genre better than I do.” 

“True. You’ve read some horror, though. You read that zombie series.”

“Only because it was the only halfway decent reading material we had on the cruise and I wanted to see what happened to the characters in the end. I had to read all three books.” Gwen peered around the corner. “She’s still there, but Chuck’s at his table. You stay here. I’ll be right back.” She returned in a few minutes, carrying a paper sack. “I got a selection of his work. A couple from before they met you and Ellen, a couple right after, and a couple with that Bela girl. Teddy gave me Tall Tales earlier, but it’s back in the room.”

“You asked Chuck for books?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s our husband’s lives. I think we need to know how big a threat this,” she gestured around them, “could actually be if he continues publishing. One way to do that is to start assessing his writing, see how good he is. Then, we can talk to Becky, if we can find her, since she seems to be the go-to person for all things Supernatural fandom. She might be able to extrapolate what could happen based on sales and the current state of the fandom.”

“We could also talk to that woman that was manning Chuck’s table last night. She seemed pretty knowledgeable.”

“It’s a plan.” She rubbed a hand across her stomach. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get a sandwich or something while we look at the books.”

Jo eyed Gwen’s stomach. She kept expecting Gwen to gain weight like she had, but so far she hadn’t. “Sure. Why not? It’s away from Marissa.”

Once they were seated and had decide to split a sandwich and sweet potato fries between them, Gwen laid out the books evenly between them. “You glance through those and I’ll take these, see what we can see before the discussion starts.”

They had forty minutes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was glad to be out of the hotel and away from the convention. He felt like his head was clearer, like he could think. Too bad Dean had declined to join him. He thought it would’ve been good for him to work a case instead of working on Jo. Actually, he sort of wished that Gwen had blown off the convention and come with him on this like she would under normal circumstances.

She was enjoying herself though. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Dean that. Gwen was having fun. Sam wondered if she’d still have fun if she was in their place. Would she like it if she saw people pretending to be her? Idolizing her even?

He took a last glance at the headless male corpse on the rolling drawer. There were four victims, three male, one female. “Have you been able to identify any of them yet?” He glanced at the young man, Carl, assisting him. 

“Well,” Carl closed one drawer and reached for the door to the next one, “we found one of the heads this morning. Gail Stone. Missing from Utah for three years.”

“May I see it?”

“Sure.” He pulled out the drawer. “The three men aren’t in the system that we’ve found. Just her.”

Carl was called away and Sam took the opportunity to check for fangs. They were there. This was the work of a hunter. It was all he needed to know and he left, intending on taking a quick look at that magic act using the cursed object. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon. The tension in his neck and shoulders was draining away in steady degrees and he felt more relaxed the longer he was away from the convention.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was the day from hell.

There had been nothing but problems from the moment Becky had woken up and she still had to sit down with Sam and Gwen sometime and apologize. It was a daunting task to consider. Sam wasn’t going to forgive her easily and she wasn’t sure about Gwen. Without having any of the fiction featuring her to go by, she didn’t know how she’d react.

Becky smothered a yawn. 

She’d chased down staff members who’d decided not to perform their jobs, made certain Dave had a quiet place to eat lunch that wasn’t his room, smoothed over scheduling disasters, renegotiated with hotel management on a few contract details, and checked in with the vendors -- among other things. Running this convention wasn’t quite what she’d imagined it would be. She’d discovered that some jobs she’d thought weren’t hers to do really were and that other jobs could be easily delegated.

Her feet hurt, her head still throbbed with a headache, and she just realized that while she’d made sure Dave had lunch, she hadn’t actually taken time to eat and it was the middle of the afternoon. She closed her eyes a moment, then reopened them to watch Molly, their most successful vendor, straighten her booth. 

Molly was psyched to be playing Ellen later. “Should I straighten my hair, you think? I brought my flatiron just in case, but if I do that, I need to go get started. This mess takes time to tame.” She gestured at her head and the curls she had pinned up.

“Up to you. How accurate do you want to be?” Once, Becky had wanted to have hair like that, but a disastrous perm in high school had cured her of that wish. Well, that and the comments from her classmates over it.

“Accurate. As true to the books as possible. Which reminds me….” She leaned over a little. “Can you arrange to have that LARPer I’ve heard people talking about come be Jo for me? The one who doesn’t break character, I mean. People are telling me she’s real good and I want this shindig tonight to be as memorable as the Browncoat event I attended a few weeks ago.”

“Um….” She meant Jo, didn’t she? The real Jo. “I’ll ask her if I see her.” Molly wasn’t old enough to be Jo’s mother, only about seven or eight years older than Jo herself, but maybe she could pull it off if Jo was willing.

“Thanks, Becks.”

“You have everything you need?”

“For the moment.” She paused in folding shirts. “Hey, did you ever eat today?”

“I’ll go in a minute. I need to straighten up the books.”

“That’s not your job. Go eat.”

“Someone has to do it. They look terrible.” Going to the books, she started straightening them only to be shoved aside by a dark haired woman. Becky got a weird vibe off the woman. She looked like some biker chick who’d wandered into the wrong building. While it was possible she was a fan, Becky didn’t think so. The woman just looked…wrong. She chastised her for being rude, her words met with amusement.

For a second, she thought she saw a weird flash in the woman’s eyes and that flash sent fear rushing through her. She was honestly afraid, though all the woman had done was say a few words and smile. Becky hurried across the room where she could keep a covert eye on her.

But when she turned, the woman was gone.

Becky pressed a hand to her chest and took a long breath, blowing it out with a shake of her head. “I’ve been reading these books far too long.” Not to mention she was feeling shaky now from hunger.

She went to get some food and convinced herself her imagination was working overtime with Sam and Dean actually in the building somewhere.

~~~~~~~~~~

While she hated daylight, it was necessary to be out in it at present.

The vampire kept to the shadowed part of the street, her strides purposeful. She smelled them, the ones who’d killed her fledgling pack, tracking the strongest scent to one hotel, vengeance on her mind. Kate had discovered she wasn’t nearly as good at keeping them safe as Luther had been. He’d had the knack for knowing when to move on and when hunters might be closing in. She, regrettably, didn’t have that knack.

For awhile, it had seemed like there was going to be some big war on humanity, with all vampires banding together, but it had fizzled out, she wasn’t sure why. Didn’t particularly care, either, because that fizzle had meant they could return to getting blood the old fashioned way.

As she approached, she caught a whiff of two other familiar scents. It was the two who’d taken Luther from her, minus the third man.

A wave of grief welled up inside her. She’d never really gotten over losing Luther. Even now, she still recalled how it had felt to be wrapped in his arms. He’d made this life perfect. Without him she was lacking.

Kate had spent the years slowly rebuilding the pack they’d had, choosing additions with care. Occasionally, a few would be caught by hunters, bringing their number down, and after the last brutal attack on them, she’d brought the remainder here, only to lose the rest of them. She was the last and had nothing left to lose.

Her upper lip curled in a snarl.

Vengeance would be served.

Damn all hunters.

__

Revenge isn’t worth much if you end up dead, spoke Luther’s voice in her mind.

She didn’t care. There was no one left to care about and if she could kill these hunters who’d killed Luther it’d be worth dying.

“I’ll do it for you, baby,” she whispered, and strode into the hotel, first to the bar, then to the other rooms on the main level, pausing just inside the room of some fan convention. Kate stood a long while, watching the people, taking it all in before she moved to look at the books on one rack. She shoved a blond woman aside.

“Hey! Use manners, lady, or I’ll have security escort you out.”

Kate couldn’t help smiling at the irate tone. She glanced at the woman’s nametag. “You’re welcome to try…Becky, but I’m not going anywhere. Not yet anyway. Not until I’ve found who I’m looking for.” Automatically, she assessed the woman. Perhaps she’d take her to replace one of her lost pack members, start rebuilding tonight. Becky was a little mousy, nerdy even, but she had potential. She had fire in her. Kate could see that bit of fire in the determined glare and how she motioned to two geeks with security badges to watch her. Fire was good. It meant she’d probably make a very good vampire once she accepted what she’d become.

“There’s no need to be rude.” Becky retreated across the room and Kate shadowed her, watching Becky until she left the room. By the time Becky stepped into the hall, Kate had taken note of her scent and made up her mind.

Becky was going to be the first addition to her new pack.

The matter decided, she returned her attention to the books, reading the titles. They all appeared to be horror books. Kate was about to reach for Dean Man’s Blood \-- certainly a provocative title given what she knew personally of the stuff -- when she smelled them again, those two hunters whose names she didn’t know. It was a remnant of scent, not on them, but on someone else. She turned.

Two women walked by, carrying the trace scent she smelled. One was blond, the other brunette. The brunette was pregnant, carrying a paper sack in her hands.

“Jo, you don’t start a fight in a discussion group.”

“She insulted me, Gwen. How could I not call her out?”

“No, she insulted the character, which while it is you, isn’t you as you are now. You said yourself you were snotty and annoying back then.”

“I can say that. It’s me. I know myself. I have the right to say that.” Jo paused beside the t-shirt table. “I still really want the ‘I love Dean’ shirt in light pink.”

“So buy it. You’ve got to step back over this and quit taking it all so damn personally.”

Kate blinked. The conversation made no sense, though it wasn’t the strangest conversation she’d ever overheard.

“The more I sober up, the more I want to drink.”

She could relate to that statement and moved closer to study the women. They wore wedding bands and engagement rings on their left hands. 

Jo flipped through the stack of shirts. “They don’t have my size.”

“Get it in blue. Or purple.”

“I don’t like the blue or purple.” She sighed.

Gwen gasped, pressed a hand to her stomach, and said, “I’ll be back. Junior just kicked my bladder again.”

“Has it been ten minutes already?”

“Cute. You’re almost as funny as Dean.” Gwen smiled and went into the hall.

Kate moved closer, watching Jo. Who were the two to the hunters? Were they wives? Relatives? Friends? She was willing to bet that they could be wives.

The vendor turned and smiled at Jo. “Hi. I was hoping you’d come back.”

Jo looked up, surprise in her eyes. “Me?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Why?” She tapped a finger to the stack of pink shirts. “Do you have this in a small?”

“No, sorry. Carver Edlund bought my last small in that design and color last night.”

“Hmm. I didn’t think pink was his color.”

The vendor laughed. “I see him in purple myself. I’m Molly, by the way.”

“Jo.”

“I know. Becks said she’d ask you if she saw you, but since you’re here now…. You planning on coming to the mixer?”

“We’ve got tickets.”

“Great. Would you be willing to be Jo for me? I’m supposed to be portraying Ellen and I really think I need a Jo there. To be real, you know? I’ve heard a lot of comments about your portrayal and I think we’d be a good team for the event.”

Gwen returned and Kate left them, intending on following her nose to the nearest hunter.


	10. Chapter 10

Kate followed her nose, pausing every so often to judge the strength of the scent. She found herself growing excited by this hunt, much like the excitement she’d felt years earlier when she’d found Daniel Elkins. Several floors up, Kate stopped at the start of a long hallway.

Two men and two women were standing outside the room she thought her nose was leading her to. They carried bags and beer, a sure sign of a party about to start.

She listened and watched. While she wanted that hunter badly, she knew better than to attack potentially five hunters alone. At least one would be prepared and the two men in the hall were dressed like hunters she’d seen.

The door opened and she recognized the voice that spoke. Definitely the right room. “Dave! Man, you’re early!”

“Events went faster than I’d thought they would. Brought Rose and Hayley if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” He did some sort of ritual with shot glasses with each one and then the group was going into the room.

From the way the one young woman was looking at the tallest, biggest of the two men in the hall, Kate thought there’d be a little recreational activity going on between the two sometime soon. Possibly between the second couple, too. She growled with disappointment, made a mental note of the room number, and went off in search of other entertainment for awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~

With a late lunch eaten, Becky felt fatigue slide over her. She’d gone too long today without a moment to herself, so she decided to steal a few minutes alone, heading back to her room to rest. She closed and locked the door, leaning against it a moment before moving to the table and setting her clipboard down on it.

Her stomach was all upset. Maybe from the task she still had to complete? Apologizing to Sam and Gwen kept a tight knot in her stomach. She simply wasn’t certain how to go about it. Every time she came up with an idea, she dismissed it as stupid.

Going into the bathroom, she washed her face, carefully patted it dry, then stared at her reflection. She thought she looked as tired as she felt, with shadows under her eyes and a dullness to her gaze. Would anyone miss her for awhile? Her staff was finally under control and as the afternoon had gone on, each event and discussion had run smoother than the one before it. She was actually looking forward to feedback when the weekend was over. 

She smothered a yawn and decided to take a half hour nap, then re-do her makeup and be downstairs in time for the ‘drinks with Dave’ event. She had yet to sit down with him and get to know him like she’d had vague plans of before the Winchesters had shown up.

“Hey there, sunshine.”

She whirled. The woman from earlier was leaning against the doorway into the bathroom, trapping Becky in the space. Her eyes did that weird gleam again and Becky swallowed hard. How had she gotten in there? She hadn’t been there a minute ago and Becky remembered putting the extra lock on. “What do you want?” She glanced at the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom. “I don’t have much cash --”

“I don’t want cash, Becky. I want you.”

Becky had no weapon, nothing she could use to defend herself. There wasn’t even a hard plastic tissue box cover she could throw. “You don’t want me.”

The woman smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong. I do. We can do this the hard way or the easy way, but either one will have the same result.”

“What result is that?” Her throat was dry and the words barely came out a whisper.

Her mouth opened and Becky yelped as fangs filled the woman’s mouth. She backed up against the wall, terror spreading through her body.

This wasn’t the Supernatural reality that she’d ever envisioned for herself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean didn’t begrudge Sam a hunt. If he wanted to get away from the hotel, that was fine. It’d keep him from being pissy. Dean, however, had plans and not just the plan for Jo. He had Dave and his bodyguard coming up while Jo and Gwen were occupied. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like this with anyone besides Sam, Gwen, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, and occasionally Jodie Mills.

Frankly, he liked Dave and it might be nice to make a friend of sorts, give the guy some guidance in wooing that woman he’d been eyeing.

Gwen had stopped by long enough to drop off a shopping bag, use the bathroom, and inquire if he was feeling okay. For someone Sammy had blabbed the plan to, she didn’t look like she cared what he did as long as no one got hurt in the process, muttering something about beds and lying in them as she’d gone out the door.

After that, he’d had time to relax before he had to check the suite and make sure the bedroom doors were closed and anything related to hunting was locked down. However, since this was a Supernatural convention, he didn’t think Dave or his bodyguard would bat an eye if he made a masking tape devil’s trap in front of the door into the suite. Jo always kept masking tape in her bag. He’d never gotten around to asking why, but assumed she had a good reason. She usually did. 

Dean found the tape and spent awhile working on that and getting the details right. Tape wasn’t an ideal medium, but he thought it didn’t look too bad once he was done. He turned on the tv, half expecting Jo to come back just because she was supposed to be in discussions and things the rest of the day. 

There was a knock on the door and he checked the peephole. Dave and his bodyguard Goliath stood there. He tried to remember Goliath’s real name and couldn’t. Chas? Charlie? Chris? Something with that sound to it. He’d have to find out. They were early, but he didn’t mind. Dean opened the door, did a check with holy water under the guise of a ‘Supernatural’ theme and the party got started.

They’d gone through most of the snacks and a chunk of the beer when Goliath -- Chris was his name, Dean had found out, and he was a former Marine -- glanced down at his watch.

“Crud. Dave, we’re late. Super late.”

“Late for what?”

“The drinks thing. It started forty minutes ago. We need to haul ass.”

“Yeah, it’s like dinnertime,” Hayley supplied, though they’d been steadily munching on the snacks they’d brought with them. It had been obvious in seconds that she had major hots for Chris. She’d barely looked at anything or one but him.

Dave frowned, removed his arm from around Rose, and picked up the con schedule on the table. “I thought that was tomorrow.”

“No, that’s tonight.” Dean remembered it was tonight because it was one of the things Chuck had gotten tickets for them for. He glanced at his own watch. Time had gone by fast. Dave really was a cool guy and he thought he’d given him an edge up with Rose since Marissa wasn’t there to interrupt. “My wife’s probably already there.” Maybe. Unless she’d found something else she’d rather do or go to.

“I couldn’t get tickets,” Rose said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Wanted to, but they were sold out.”

Interesting. How had Chuck gotten them tickets then?

Dave smiled at her. “Like you need a ticket to see me. All you gotta do is call, sweetheart.”

Not a bad line. It worked, too. Rose looked like she was going to melt in a puddle right there, her eyes all shining with happiness that reminded Dean of how Jo looked at him sometimes when she thought he wasn’t watching.

She stood. “So, Hayley and I’ll meet you at the mixer?”

He sighed. “I guess better late than never, right?”

“Go on,” Dean told him with a gesture at the door. “I’ll clean up.”

“You sure? ‘Cause we can stay and help.”

“No, I got it.” It’d occupy him until Sam got back, which should be sometime soon, unless he’d found something really interesting. If that was the case, he should be calling real soon. He closed the door behind them and began to make a game plan for cleanup.

~~~~~~~~~~

She entered the room as quietly as she had with Daniel Elkins, reveling in that ability. The scent of the hunter was ripe and full and she’d seen his friends leave. There was no one else in the suite. He was alone, his back to her.

Delicious revenge.

Kate studied him. As she watched, he picked up several beer bottles. She cleared her throat to get his attention, hitting him as he turned. He stumbled back against one chair, the chair tipping over and him falling to the floor with it. The bottles went flying, one hitting the wall and smashing. “Well, well. Look who I found.” Kate stepped over to him, smiling a little at how quickly he scrambled for the knife in his boot and brandished it at her.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Now, don’t tell me you don’t remember me?” She licked her lips. There was a trickle of blood at his mouth from where she’d hit him. It smelled scrumptious and she wanted to drink him down completely. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”

He slowly got to his feet and took a step back. “Prepare to have your feelings hurt, sweetheart, because I don’t know who you are or what you thought you were doing walking in here.”

She followed him. A little further and he was going to be up against the wall. “You’re looking a little rougher than you did a few years back. Hard life?”

He continued to back up. “You know how it is.”

There was no recognition in his eyes yet and Kate didn’t know if she should be insulted by that or not. Wasn’t she memorable? Had Luther not been memorable? Or had this man killed too many of her kind now to distinguish one from the other in memories? “I do. You hunters come and destroy everything, like you destroyed my mate, my pack. You never stop coming after us. Luther told me how it is and I didn’t believe him because he kept us safe, but then it all fell apart and over a gun that shouldn’t have killed him and did.”

Bingo. There was the recognition. His eyes narrowed. “You’re that vamp we were going to trade for the Colt.”

“The name is Kate. And you’re the hunter who would have killed me.”

“Still will kill you.”

“With what? That piddling little knife?” 

“If I gotta.”

She smiled, sliding her gaze down him and back up. “I like an optimist.”

He shrugged. “Just the truth.”

“Maybe I’ll kill you or maybe….” He, too, was wearing a wedding band and she wondered if his wife was the brunette or the blonde, considering the scents. His had been more so on the blonde named Jo, so Kate extrapolated that Jo was his wife. How satisfying would it be to turn him and make sure his wife was there when the bloodlust came upon him? How satisfying would it be to make this hunter hers? “Maybe I’ll turn you. You can’t replace Luther, but you’ll be a decent substitute once you accept it.”

“Been there, done that, sister. Killed the vamp who attacked me. But if you think you’re tougher than he was…. Give me your best shot.”

Kate attacked.

~~~~~~~~~~

He was doing a long glance around the suite to determine where to begin cleaning up, when someone cleared their throat behind him. Turning, he found himself stumbling backwards and tangling with a chair as he fell hard to the carpeted floor. The woman there looked slightly familiar, though he had trouble placing her until she gave him the clue he needed.

Not good. Did Sam know there were vampires here? Did Gwen and Jo?

His knife wasn’t going to cut off her head and there wasn’t anything present he could use, not like Sam’s impressive use of wire on Gordon. Her plan for him pissed him off. Turn him? Not if he had any say in it.

She didn’t play any nicer than other creatures he’d tangled with, fighting fast and dirty. He returned the favor, slashing at her with the knife until she knocked it from his hand with a blow to his wrist that left his hand and arm feeling numb. Kate punched him and he was uncomfortably aware that the same adage for rape applied here: don’t let your attacker get you on the ground. Of course, with vampires, it didn’t matter where they pinned a person. Floor, wall…. They had a pretty good bet of winning most fights.

He was grabbed, Kate using her own momentum to push him off-balance and onto his back on the floor. Dean struggled to draw in a breath through lungs that felt on fire from the impact. She straddled him, bit her wrist, and lowered it, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. Dean turned his head, struggling to keep her from smearing her blood on his mouth. Having had the experience once, he didn’t care to repeat it even with the cure available.

The door to the suite banged opened. “Whoa! Hey, sorry, Dean. Didn’t realize you had company again.”

“Dave,” he gasped as Kate slowly withdrew, not bothering to hide the fact that her wrist was smeared with blood. He didn’t question how Dave had opened the door because he was a welcome sight and had arrived just in time, although Dean was surprised Kate didn’t keep going anyway. She’d seemed determined to turn him and he didn’t think she’d be afraid to make a scene. “Thought you had that…thing. Where’s Chris?” Dean scrambled to his feet and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. His sleeve came away bloody.

Chris appeared in the doorway. “We couldn’t leave you to clean up alone. Bad guest manners and all.” 

Dave gestured at Kate. “Who’s your friend?” His gaze fell to her wrist and traveled back up, a frown creasing his brow. His tone indicated he was in doubt over the friend part and was wondering how she’d gotten in so fast when they’d been gone only a couple minutes.

“She’s not a friend.”

Kate stood in a smooth movement. “Oh, now don’t be silly…Dean. I told you once before that I like to make new friends.” Her expression shifted to a pleased smile that was ghastly to see. “I think we’ll be good friends really soon. _Lifelong_ friends.”

“Doubtful.”

“Maybe I’ll go get to know your wife, then. Her name’s Jo, right? Pretty little blond?” With a coy wave of her fingers, she brushed past Dave and Chris and was gone.

Dean bit back a round of curses. He’d actually forgotten she and her pack were out there in the world somewhere. Maybe they should start making lists of every monster they’d ever crossed who was still alive. Could be useful to know who and what was going to be coming after them on any given day.

“What was that about,” Chris asked. 

“Old business. I need to make a call.” Stepping into one bedroom, he dialed Sam. It went to voicemail. “Sam, get back here. Got a little vamp problem. Get some dead man’s blood, and pick up the machetes, saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium from the trunk. I think we’ve got all of that in there still. We need the recipe for the vampire cure too, just in case. And the herbs. Might want to hurry.” He tried Jo next, but she didn’t pick up either. Had Kate already gotten to Jo and Gwen? 

Heart pounding in his chest, Dean texted Jo to call him, then texted Gwen and continued to call Sam. Jo sent him a text that she was in a discussion that was running over and to stop sending her texts. Relief calmed him somewhat and he stepped back into the main room.

Dave was putting his phone away. “Just tried calling Becky again to let her know I missed the drinks thing and she’s not answering.”

Chris checked the locks on the door. “I told you, she’s probably busy. She was everywhere today.”

“Weird is all.” He started picking up empty beer bottles and dumping them in one small trash can. “She tells me to call if I need anything and then never answers.”

“Becky can be flaky,” Dean told him, dialing Sam again and ending the call as it went to voicemail.

“Really?” Chris glanced his way. “She’s been perfectly professional since we’ve been in touch. At the last promotional thing we went to, professionalism seemed to be a suggestion.”

Becky professional? She must have matured one helluva lot since they’d last seen her, though her behavior with Sam and Gwen didn’t bear that out. He tried Sam again, then texted Gwen.

With a last toss of a bottle, Dave set the trash can down. “Enough small talk. What the hell was with that woman, Dean? We were gone like three minutes at most and come back to find the place wrecked and you looking like you went ten rounds with a cyborg.”

“That’s an exaggeration. I don’t look that bad.” Was it a bad thing that he knew by how he felt how badly he’d been beaten -- or not beaten? This was a measly beat-down compared to some he’d had, barely worth noting. “Don’t even need stitches or anything.”

“How do you know?”

“I’d feel it.”

“You’re a pretty in-shape guy,” Chris observed. “How’d that woman get the drop on you and do this much damage in minutes?”

“Not to mention, why was she trying to smear blood on you?”

All good questions and all ones he didn’t want to answer. “Look, I --” His phone chose that moment to ring with Sam finally calling him back. “I have to take this.”

They crossed their arms. “We’ll wait,” Dave said.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken three side trips and some bad flirting Gwen would’ve laughed at to learn that the cursed object Sam was trying to find had been stolen. He put a note on that in the file Gwen had given him and when he was done, he called Gwen.

“Hey, sexy,” she answered in a tone that had him thinking that perhaps there was hope for some together time in the room after all. She sounded like she was in a good mood. “What’s up?”

“Dead-end on the cursed object. Stolen a couple weeks ago. Clean break-in, no signs of force, and no clues.”

“Too bad. It looked promising.”

“It did. As for the other matter,” he moved the phone to his other ear, “it turns out there’ve been killings recently that look like --”

“Vampire kills.” Gwen’s voice was matter-of-fact and he frowned at his phone.

“Yeah. Someone got to the nest first, or to the food scouts.”

“The beheaded vics were vamps.”

Another call came in and he glanced at it before sending it to voicemail. It was just Dean. Probably calling to demand he come back and help with the stupid plan again. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, I saw Sophie and Teddy. They cleared out a small nest.”

He stirred his coffee. “You couldn’t tell me that earlier?”

“There was always a chance that the beheadings weren’t related and I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were hot on the trail.”

“They _were_ related. One of the heads was found this morning.” His phone buzzed with a call. Dean. Sam rolled his eyes, sending it again to voicemail. “How are the discussions going?”

“Jo got in a couple fights.”

“Physical?”

“Verbal. First, one girl went on about some woman named Cassie and how she was who Dean should end up with at the end of the series.”

“Interesting. I guess the girl didn’t notice that Cassie dumped Dean twice? Once before the books and once during the book she was in?”

“She said it didn’t matter, that love was love. Then another girl started talking about how Bela was better for Dean than Jo and Cassie both, but especially more than Jo and it got personal.”

“Bela?” He laughed, imagining Dean and Bela together. Each vague idea ended with Dean shooting her. “Dean would’ve killed her. Or I would’ve. She was a treacherous bitch. A couple times she helped us, but usually followed it up immediately with a knife in our backs.”

“She sounds delightful.”

“I’d rather not discuss her. Anything else going on?”

“Dean’s steadily racking up demerits with Jo.”

Sam believed he’d predicted that from the moment Dean had revealed his plan. “What now?”

She explained and he could kick himself for not remembering Risa was really Abigael’s vessel. “Huh. I’d forgotten Risa was a vessel.”

“Apparently Dean was hoping Jo’d forgotten, too. She also realized he’d told Marissa she was enjoying spending time with her. Oh, and…Jo got roped into portraying herself tonight at the mixer. The vendor playing Ellen talked it up and Jo figured that since she was being herself anyway and already planned to be there, she might as well help the woman out. You know. Be herself since no one else can be her the way she can be herself?”

He glanced around the restaurant and poured himself more coffee from the pot his server had left on the table. “Trying to take your approach is she?”

“Trying. I think she just couldn’t bear the idea of someone failing to portray her accurately in her presence. I can see her stopping the person and telling her she has it all wrong, critiquing the performance, and making some poor girl cry.”

“Could be.” His phone buzzed a third time. Dean once more. “Gwen, listen, Dean’s calling me over and over.”

“Determined, isn’t he? I just got two texts in a row from him, but they don’t make much sense. Something about ‘her here, bring machete’ Maybe he’s had a few drinks?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe. Listen, I’d better see what he wants now.” ‘Her here, bring machete?’ What was he up to now? Could be anything knowing Dean. He disconnected and called Dean back. “Dean, hey --”

“She’s here, Sam.”

“Who’s here?” The words weren’t slurred or anything and he didn’t sound drunk.

“Her. That vamp whose mate we killed.”

“Narrow it down for me. We’ve killed a lot of vampires.”

“Narrow…. With dad, Sam. The Colt. Dad shot him to keep him from killing you.”

Oh, _that_ vamp. Yeah, he remembered that incident. “She’s here? Are you sure?”

“I just said that. If Dave hadn’t shown up, I’d be dead or turned right now…the bitch.”

“Huh. They do remember scents and we did major damage to that pack as I recall.” He began putting papers away and motioned for the check. “It must have been her pack Teddy and Sophie put down then.”

“Teddy and Sophie?”

“They’re hunting here. Together. As a couple.”

“Well isn’t that just peachy? Get the blood, the machetes, the herbs…. Listen to the message I left, then get back here. I’ve got to somehow get rid of Dave and Chris, who are asking way too many questions, and get Jo and Gwen up here before Kate finds them.”

“Tell them she’s a psycho ex-girlfriend who thinks she’s a real vampire. As weird as some of our fans are, they’ll probably believe it.”

“I’ll think of something. Get here. ASAP.”

“On my way.” Sam listened to his voicemail, making notes of what they needed. He paid for his meal, then got the notebook he’d been compiling of various cures and rituals from the trunk. He perused the list of herbs needed for the cure. They had most of them, but he needed to stop and buy a couple before heading back. Sam hoped they wouldn’t have to make it for anyone. Seeing Dean once projectile vomit blood from the cure had been bad enough.

~~~~~~~~~~

The world was different when Becky woke. It was filled with sounds, sights, and smells that were amplified and hurting. Becky’s stomach clenched in painful spasms. One thought slipped through her mind: find Sam. She had to find Sam.

He’d know what to do.


	11. Chapter 11

He gave them a whopper lie much like what Sam had suggested, though Dean could tell neither man was buying it. The two exchanged a glance, Dave sighing.

“Whatever, man. If you don’t want help with her, nothing we can do, right?”

“Exactly. I’ve got it under control.” Another lie. Kate had been an inch from giving him new cravings. He wondered if he was reading in-between the lines of Dave’s words, however, because that tone sounded a lot like the one he and Sam used when potential victims denied needing their help and they watched them anyway.

Damn. The last thing they needed were Dave and Chris hanging around when they were trying to lop off Kate’s head.

Chris’s attention drifted about the room. “Riiiight.” He twirled a finger around to indicate the room as a whole. “‘Cause this is totally under control.”

“It is actually. How’d you get back in anyway?”

“Door was cracked. How’d _she_ get in? You let her in, Dean?” Chris raised his brows with the question.

“You think I have a death wish? Chick snuck in. Must’ve grabbed a maid’s keycard.”

“Must have.” Dave glanced down at his watch. “Well, if you’ve got it all _under control_ , then we’d better head down to that mixer, right Chris?” He said it a little too heartily, leaving Dean in sudden doubt of his acting skills. Really? That was the best he could do?

“Sure, Dave. The mixer.”

“See you there,” Dean told them and added silently, when hell freezes over. He was going through Sam’s bag, looking for the weapons he usually carried when he heard Jo’s voice. Finally. It had taken her and Gwen long enough to haul ass up there. Dean stepped out into the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~

On her way to the suite, Jo passed David Angle and his bodyguard, who were hanging out by the elevator just down from their suite for no apparent reason. Loitering was the word to describe it. Jo took note of the innocent expressions both gave her and inwardly sighed. What had Dean done now?

“What did you do,” she asked, entering the suite. “Angle and his bodyguard are lurking at the elevator. Tell me you didn’t start a real fight with….” Jo paused, studying the marks on his face. “You got in a fight with David Angle. Dean.”

“No, not him. Honest. About that….” He went to the door, opened it, peered out, then slammed it and turned, an odd expression on his face. It almost looked like panic, but what was there to be panicking about. “Where’s Gwen?”

“Already at the mixer.” Jo brushed by him and headed for the room they’d taken, noting the remains of what looked like party food scattered around the suite. Chip bags, beer bottles…. There weren’t any people passed out at least, though some of the furniture was looking a lot rougher than when they’d arrived. It looked like Dean had made a passing attempt to clean up. “Did you have a party up here while I was gone?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Which is it?”

“It doesn’t matter. Damn it, Jo, I told you both to come up! I left you both messages and texts to come up. Why’d you leave her down there alone? You were supposed to bring her with you.”

“She was talking to a guy dressed like Sam. They were deep in discussing some AU concept. Who am I to tear her away from good conversation like that? Her eyes weren’t even glazing over. I think she was enjoying it.” Jo opened up her case and rifled through it, looking for the extra blouse she’d brought. There were too many women in her pink one and she thought her favorite navy one might be better for the mixer. In the process, she found a light pink t-shirt with ‘I love Dean’ on the front and held it up. “You send Chuck to do some shopping last night? Molly said Chuck bought the last one last night and, oh look, here it is.”

“You liked the shirt, I had him get it before they sold out.” He pulled the shirt from her hands, dropped it back in the case and closed it. “Don’t start unpacking. We’re leaving.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Dean, this has got to stop.”

“You don’t understand. We really have to leave the hotel now. We’re all in danger. You, me, Sam, and Gwen. And their baby. We need to get somewhere where -- ”

“Right.” She sighed, tired of this alarmist bullshit. “Are you coming to the mixer or not? I hear the vendor portraying mom is really good and she asked me --.”

“Will you listen to me?”

“No, Dean. _You_ listen to _me_. You’ve done everything you can all day long to get me to see this your way and I’ve had it. Enough. You told Marissa I was enjoying her company, tried to make me think Risa is the Risa from that vision and her name isn’t even really Risa, faked a panic attack….” She shrugged.

“You knew about the panic attack?”

She pointed a finger at him. “I’m on to you and your whole plan.”

“Screw the plan. I’m serious, here.” He grabbed her by the arms, hard enough to hurt, and Jo wrenched away. He was seriously beginning to piss her off.

“That hurts!”

“You can’t go down there, not until Sam gets back. I don’t know what’s taking him so long. All he had to do was drive here and bring back a few things from the trunk.”

“Stop it!”

“There’s a vampire, okay? Dad killed her mate years ago and Sam and I were there. She threatened me and threatened you and I’m pretty sure she’s of half a mind to go after Gwen, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Sure. A real vampire who just happens to show up at the Supernatural convention.”

“Yeah. A real vampire. Geez, you think I’d be acting like this over a fake one?”

It dawned on her that he was serious. This wasn’t Dean , her husband, trying to put one over on her, it was Dean, the hunter, worried about his team. There really was a vampire. Jo’s anger at him slid away. “You’re serious.” 

“She’s the one I got in a fight with.”

Had Dave and his bodyguard heard something? Or seen something? Was that why they were hanging around? “Okay. What’s she look like?”

“Dark hair, too much eyeliner, fangs, pissed off attitude.”

“Doesn’t help much, Dean. Lot of dark haired girls here wearing too much eyeliner.”

“Discount the ones who’ve had on blond wigs most of the time.”

“That’s still a lot of women.”

“This one just feels like bad news. I think you could spot Kate in seconds.”

“Kate. Gotcha.” She opened her case back up, dumped everything out and opened a hidden compartment on the bottom. Jo removed her backup knife, the biggest one she had that Dean had given her for her last birthday. She put it in her shoulder bag.

“You keep that in your suitcase?”

“After my reunion you have to ask that? Always prepared, remember?”

“Right. Happen to know if Gwen’s got one?”

Jo retrieved Gwen’s favorite machete from a similar secret compartment in Gwen’s case. “Don’t you and Sam have extra weapons tucked in your bags?”

“Yeah, but not….” He held up the machete. “She carries a machete in her bag?”

“Girl can’t be too careful, Dean. Lot of weirdos out there. Are you done exclaiming in surprise about how prepared Gwen and I are for anything? Because we need to head down to the mixer and find Gwen and Sam. Maybe he went there first to get her?”

He never did explain why Dave and his bodyguard were waiting outside the elevator, nor did he explain when the two got in behind them and began shadowing them all the way to the mixer. Near the doorway, Jo stopped, turned around and slammed a hand against Dave’s chest.

“Stop. Only my husband gets that close to me. What are you doing?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dean making some sort of gesture. “Is this about Kate?” Dave flinched. “Were you there when that crazy bitch started waling on my husband?” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, if I see that --”

“Just seemed like maybe he could use some help with her is all.” His bodyguard shrugged.

“That’s a job for the LVPD, guys. We’ve got a restraining order against her and I already called them. They’re on the way.”

It took a little longer to convince the two they weren’t needed, though Jo wasn’t sure they _had_ convinced them. Once they’d disappeared in the crowd, she tugged Dean to one side. “How is it that usually you make enemies, but when we don’t need people hanging around, you make friends who won’t go away?”

“What can I say, they’re cool guys.”

“I’m sure they are. Let’s find Gwen and Sam.”

There were more people there that Jo had thought there’d be and, as they searched, she had the sensation of being watched. Once or twice, she caught sight of a dark haired woman matching Dean’s rather loose description, but every time she tried to get a better look, the woman was gone.

Dean’s hand in hers was sweaty and as they worked their way through the crowd, Jo lost her grip. “Dean!”

The crowd pressed close, separating them. Jo shoved back and realized the surging was because David Angle had been spotted. She found herself moving back, away from Dean despite trying to push forward in his direction. The gap between them grew. A hand grasped her arm. She was swung around.

The woman holding on to her arm was exactly the way Dean had described her and felt like bad news. Jo knew her without having met her. “Kate.”

“And you must be Jo. Let’s get acquainted.”

Kate dragged her away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam found Gwen with a glass in hand, standing by one wall watching the crowd.

Gwen straightened when she saw him. “What’s going on?” 

She didn’t look worried and she should. He frowned. “What do you mean, what’s going on? I texted you.”

“Someone bumped into me and I dropped my phone. It’s busted.” She drew out the smashed remains from her pocket. “It was weird, because this brand is practically indestructible. That’s why I chose this phone. I didn’t even see who did it, just…bump and my phone was out of my hand and smashed on the ground.”

Sam handed Gwen a bag and searched the crowd for Kate. He didn’t see her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t here somewhere. Maybe she’d even been the one to trash Gwen’s phone. “Vamp.”

Her eyes widened and she set her glass down. “Seriously? Here now?”

“Yup.”

“It must have followed Teddy when he came here earlier.”

“Actually….” He wet his lips. “She’s here for me and Dean.”

Her lips curved in a slow and thoroughly amused smile. “We can’t take you two anywhere, can we?”

He arched a brow. “I could say the same for you and Jo. Wait…Teddy was here in the hotel?” 

“He stopped by. This whole thing isn’t his doing. Vamp, Sam?”

“Yeah, uh, her name’s Kate. A few years back, we were with dad and killed her mate and several pack members. She told Dean she plans to turn him and have him replace her mate.”

“Mmm. Lucky him. He has all the fun.”

“She also indicated she might turn Jo instead.”

“Terrific. If she knows your scents, she should be able to pick them up on us.”

“Yeah. Let’s go up to the suite, meet Jo and Dean, form a plan. We need to be ready in case she tries to turn anyone.”

“Or in case she already has.” Gwen started pushing through the crowd. 

They went into the hall, to the elevator, and to their suite. Sam opened the door. The room wasn’t as tidy as it had been when he’d left, though it wasn’t as bad as it _could_ be. He’d stayed with Dean in rooms worse and only because of Dean’s presence, not the party Dean had been proposing earlier.

“Jo? Dean? You in here?”

There was no verbal reply. Instead, Sam heard something fall in the room he and Gwen had taken. He was instantly suspicious.

Gwen opened the bag he’d handed her downstairs and drew out the machetes, handing him one.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered.

She motioned towards the door. “Lead on.”

The room was dark inside, a voice coming from the darkness.

“You smell so good, Sam.”

No. It wasn’t. Becky wasn’t in their suite like some creepy stalker. Sam said a silent prayer while knowing it wasn’t going to be answered. “Becky?” Flipping on the switch, he turned. She was sitting on the floor in the corner, arms about herself, rocking slightly. There was dried blood on her lips and chin and she looked terrified.

“I can hear your heartbeat….” Her glance flicked to the doorway. “And theirs. Two in one.”

Gwen was behind him. “She’s been turned, Sam.” She eased beside him, machete raised and ready. 

“How did you find our suite, Becky?”

“I smelled you here and knew it was the right room. I memorized how you smell, Sam.” She had a dreamy expression on her face, taking in a long breath. “Soap and shampoo and aftershave….” The expression faded. “Blood.”

“Smelled.” Gwen pursed her lips. “You smelled my husband and memorized it.” She shook her head. “What if she’d gotten the room wrong, Sam? She’d have drunk down and killed some poor guy.”

“I’d never get the wrong room. He always smells good.”

Gwen quirked a brow, annoyance in her eyes. “Did you feed, Becky? I mean any blood at all besides what she used to turn you.”

Becky shook her head and sobbed. “No, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m hungry. What did she do to me?”

“She made you a vampire.” Gwen said it plain, glancing at Sam. “We’ve got to find that vamp, kill her before Becky gives in.”

“You need to hang on, Becky.” He took a cautious step forward. “Don’t feed whatever you do.”

“I can’t hang on! I’m not strong! I mean, I may have not had lunch until late, but this isn’t the same sort of hunger. This is gnawing, aching pain on a bodily level that’s getting worse.”

“Hang on…for _me_.” He touched a hand to his chest. “Can you do that? I don’t want to see you go down that road, Becky. I don’t want to have to hunt you down and kill you, but I will if you don’t hang on.”

“We’ll chop off your head.”

Gwen’s matter-of-fact declaration had Becky wailing with fresh sobs.

“Nice, Gwen.”

“What?” Her expression was too innocent to not be fake. She’d known the words would upset Becky. “It’s the truth. I will cut off her head, especially if she tries to make a meal out of you.”

Sam took out his phone and dialed Dean, launching into the problem as soon as Dean answered. “We found Becky. Unfortunately, Kate found her first. She’s…changing. We’ve got her under control for now, but you’ve got to kill Kate, Dean.”

There was silence a moment. “The bitch has Jo, Sam. We got separated in the crowd and I saw Kate grab her. I couldn’t get there!”

Sam relayed the information to Gwen, who jerked her head towards the door.

“Go help him.” Gwen shifted position and the angle of the machete. “I can kill her if she attacks.”

“No. I’m not leaving you alone with her. You and the baby could get hurt.”

“I’m pregnant, not incompetent. I got this. You know, I once beheaded a vampire that attacked Dean. Ask him. I think I’ve got this.”

“She’s gonna kill me,” Becky whimpered, wrapping her arms tighter about her legs, continuing to rock back and forth. “She’s gonna kill me because I smelled you!”

“She’s not going to kill you and certainly not because you smelled me.” 

“I don’t like that she smelled you,” Gwen muttered half under her breath, “and memorized it. That’s like stalker stuff.”

“It’s crush stuff and you know it.” He pointed a stern finger at Gwen. “You’re not going to kill her.”

Her attention never left Becky and she smiled almost sweetly. “If she goes all vamp and attacks me I will.”

“She’s not going to go all vamp, are you, Becky?” When she didn’t reply, he glanced at her. She had her eyes squeezed shut. “Becky?”

“ _Hungry_.”

He put the phone back to his ear. “Dean --”

“I heard. You stay there,” he replied. “God knows, the last thing we need is a vampire _Becky_ being your number one fan through all eternity.”

Sam had to agree.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re husband is certainly taking his time getting here,” Kate remarked, pacing in front of Jo. “Perhaps he’s not as smart as I thought. I laid a trail an idiot could find.”

Kate had taken her to the lower, basement level of the parking garage, a section that was blocked off. It was cool and dark, construction equipment at one end. Jo was kneeling, hands tied behind her back with her own handcuffs. There was a pebble on the ground beneath her left knee, digging in to her knee. Her bag was on the ground a few feet away, the knife Dean had given her beside it.

She didn’t reply. Kate had been baiting her since bringing her here.

The vampire cocked her head. “Wait…. I think he’s finally coming to the party.” She moved to stand beside Jo, sliding a hand into her hair. 

Jo watched Dean run down the ramp towards them, drawing a machete from his jacket.

As Dean approached, Kate jerked Jo’s head back.

“Ah-ah. That’s far enough, hunter. Nice of you to join us. Your wife has to be the most prepared person I’ve ever met. Handcuffs, knife, assorted other hunter’s toys…. I’m almost disappointed she’s not hauling around dead man’s blood as well.”

“She hurt you, Jo?”

“She’s all hot for you, sweetheart. You and Sam.” Her glance turned to where Kate had tossed her bag. “All she did was cuff me.”

“Let her go, Kate.”

“No.”

“It’s me and my brother you’re after. She’s nothing to you.”

“You’re right, but she’s something to you. You’ll hate me for awhile after you drink her with the bloodlust, but you’ll get over it. They always do in the end.”

“Oh, you _think_ this is gonna go that way?” He twirled the machete, sounding far too smug to Jo’s ears. Did he have Sam and Gwen here somewhere?

“Baby, I know it will.” Kate shoved Jo down and stepped forward, hands making a ‘come here’ gesture.

Dean raised the machete. “Let’s dance.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Kate started forward.


	12. Chapter 12

Jo was struggling to get up from Kate having thrown her when hands grasped her arms and steadied her.

“Easy,” a familiar feminine voice said. “I’ll have these off you in a sec.”

“Sophie?” Jo let Sophie help her up. The handcuffs loosened and were gone, Sophie dropping them back into Jo’s bag and handing it to her. She took it. “What are you doing here?”

“Dean called the hotel, asked for us. Good thing we hadn’t left for the show, yet, huh? Teddy was stoked. _Another_ vampire. Between you and me, I think he’s warming up to being a hunter.”

“He’s here, too?”

“He is. Sorry we weren’t here sooner.” She gestured at Dean. “There’s a reason he’s staying downwind of her, you know. Scent and all.” Sophie almost sounded like her pre-soulstealer self.

And then Jo saw him. There were two of him, one fighting with Kate and the other coming up behind her. The Dean behind her grasped her shoulder, tugging to turn her. Kate did turn, eyes widening, realizing she’d been outmaneuvered. “You,” she screamed. A third Dean appeared, blocking her from escape and then her head was rolling on the floor of the parking garage.

The extra Dean disappeared and the first one morphed into Teddy. The blood all over him was gone in a snap. “Nice,” he remarked. “Clean work. I have to work on that. Had a little trouble getting a good smooth slice with the machete on the others.”

“You get better with practice.” Dean removed a jar from his jacket pocket and began to fill it with Kate’s blood. “Thanks for the backup, Teddy. Sophie.”

“Thanks for the inclusion. This is a learning experience.” Teddy studied the area. “Better hurry, Dean. There’s people on the next level.”

Jo and Sophie approached, Jo hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. The only reason he’d be collecting blood was because it was needed for the cure. “Why do you need that,” she asked. Had Kate gotten Sam or Gwen? Would the cure even work on a pregnant woman?

He glanced up at her. “Sam and Gwen found Becky. Kate got to her.”

“Will it work?”

“We’ll see.” He wrapped a cloth around the jar and shoved it down into his jacket pocket, then closed his jacket over his shirt, hiding the machete.

Teddy and Sophie said their goodbyes and left them on the sidewalk outside, the two strolling hand in hand. They looked like a normal couple.

“I’ll never ridicule Sam for calling Teddy for help again.”

Jo patted Dean’s back with a hand. “Yeah, you will.”

“Let’s get this to Becky.”

The hotel room was in chaos when she and Dean arrived. The couch was overturned and Sam was behind it on the floor, Becky on top of him, trying to bite him. Sam was managing to fend her off, but it wouldn’t be long before Gwen had to kill her. 

Gwen was holding the machete beside them, in strike position, arguing with Sam over killing Becky. “Come on, Sam!”

“Don’t kill her, Gwen!”

“She’s trying to eat you. I said I’d kill her for that and I’m going to. Move your arm. I’d rather not have to take you to have it sewn back on.”

“You can’t!”

“I sure as hell can.”

Dean thrust the jar of vampire blood at Jo. “Here. Make up the cure. Fast.” Striding to them, he grasped Becky, hauled her off of Sam, and said, “stop trying to drink Sam,” in a tone that had Becky suddenly backing down, a stricken look on her face. She jerked away from Dean. The fangs slid back in and she closed her mouth, backing away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t stop….”

Sam got up off the floor. His shirt hung open. The buttons appeared to be gone completely.

Jo busied herself at the table, using the card with directions on it. Sam had it all ready so it was mostly a case of mixing it all together and pouring it down Becky’s throat.

“Don’t give me that,” Dean snapped. “You will sit your almost vampire ass down and wait in silence while Jo gets the cure made up. One move in any direction and I’ll let Gwen chop off your head. Do you understand me?”

Becky’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

Jo finished mixing and took the jar to them. “Here.”

Sam brought a trashcan over. “You’ll need this.”

Becky took the jar and sniffed it, nose wrinkling in disgust. “It stinks.”

“It works. Drink.”

With a worried glance at Sam, who nodded encouragingly, Becky took a deep breath and chugged the mixture. What happened next was disgusting and Jo was truly sorry that Becky had to go through it.

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t that Gwen wanted to kill Becky. Really, it wasn’t. She simply didn’t want to take a chance, especially knowing Becky’s fixation on Sam. She could pretty easily envision Becky coming after Sam to turn him and have him for herself for eternity and that just wasn’t going to happen on her watch.

Okay, maybe a little part of her wanted to, considering the woman had memorized Sam’s smell. That was downright creepy. Crush stuff like he’d said, yet also stalker behavior.

So it was a relief when Jo and Dean arrived with the blood for the cure before she had to actually take that step.

After the grossest part of the cure, Becky sank to the floor and curled up. Gwen could imagine how embarrassing this must be for her, to be weak and vulnerable in front of them, Sam especially. Gwen remembered very well how it felt to be sick in front of a crush. It was an unpleasant experience and she sympathized. Then there was the embarrassment that Gwen was there and had seen it all. 

She put Sam and Dean to work cleaning up while she and Jo took charge of Becky. Jo covered her with a blanket and brought a cool washcloth to clean the blood from her face, while Gwen sat beside her and told her she’d be okay. After awhile, Becky pushed herself to sit up.

“Why are you being nice to me,” she asked Gwen soft, confused voice.

She answered as honestly as she could. “Because you need that right now. Believe me, I could be a bitch and ream you out for attacking my husband, but what good would it do? You weren’t yourself. You were under the influence and I’m sure it won’t happen again in any way, will it?” Meaning, Becky had better not do anything that could be construed as going after Sam, including any stalker-ish behaviors.

Becky took her meaning as though Gwen had shouted it, shaking her head. “No. Never.”

Jo crouched down. “Feel like heading back to your room? From what I understand, you need some rest now. The cure process takes a lot out of a person.”

“I didn’t know there was a cure to being a vampire.”

“Campbell family trade secret,” Gwen told her. “Though I’m sure others out there have it, too.”

“The books never mention it.”

“Not the ones published,” Jo said, sitting on the floor. “It’s understandable the knowledge was mostly lost. Vampires were almost extinct for a long time. It’s only recently that their numbers began to grow again. Thing is, you can’t feed or the cure doesn’t work. Sometimes, I guess it doesn’t work even then.”

Becky was silent for long minutes, staring at the floor. “I don’t want to go back to my room. It’s where she…. In the bathroom there.”

“We’ll clean it up and if you still can’t stand to be in there, we’ll get you a new room.” Jo was using her mom tone, the one that brooked no disobedience. She got to her feet and held out her hands to help Becky up. “Come on. Up.” 

Gwen got to her feet. “Hey, guys, we’re taking Becky to her room.” She glanced at her in question. “What number?”

“Seventeen nineteen.”

“Meet us there when you’re done, okay?”

They waved hands at them and continued cleaning the suite.

Becky was wobbly on her feet, unable to walk a straight line, and it took both her and Jo holding on to her to get her maneuvered to her room. Once there, Becky laid on the bed while Jo worked on cleaning the bathroom. There was actually very little blood splattered. It was obvious to Gwen that Kate must have had turning Becky in her game plan. She hadn’t tried to feed on her at all.

“You should shower,” Gwen suggested. “Put on pajamas. We’ll order pizza, stay with you awhile.”

“You’re bossy,” Becky told her, but she said it the way Jo did, like it was a plain observation.

“I can be,” Gwen agreed.

“Hell, yeah, she’s bossy,” Jo called out, “but I’m bossier. I’m not suggesting you shower, I’m ordering.” She appeared in the doorway. “Get in here and shower while we order the pizza. What do you like on yours?”

Becky sat up and reached for her bag, drawing out clothes. “I like the supreme, lots of black olives and mushrooms.”

“Great. I’ll order. Gwen, call the guys and tell them we’re getting pizza.”

For a second, it looked like Becky was going to cry, but then she took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Jo snapped her fingers and pointed to the bathroom. “Shower.”

When Becky had disappeared into the bathroom and the water was running, Jo looked at her. “Think she’ll be okay?”

“As okay as civilians ever are.” She hoped this experience would put Becky off of Sam and their life, but somehow, she suspected it wouldn’t. She suspected it’d only fuel Becky’s admiration of Sam. How twisted was that?

An hour later, with the pizza in shambles, Becky cleared her throat and adjusted one pillow behind her back. “You guys are death on conventions. It’s like you’re a magnet for this stuff.” Becky sipped the ice water Gwen set beside her. She was pale, but looking better than she had. 

“Tell me about it,” Jo said with a roll of her eyes. “My class reunion was an especially big hoot.”

“The first one had ghosts, this one a vampire. What’s next, a demon army?”

“Given our track record, it’s entirely a possibility,” Dean admitted.

“Yeah.” Becky tugged the covers up higher. “Well, do me a favor and stay away from the next ones.”

“We’ll keep on top of the locations,” Gwen promised her. They would, too. The website for the convention would be added to the list they regularly monitored -- or farmed out to be monitored.

“How you feelin’,” Dean asked, propping a foot on the bedside.

Becky thought a moment. Right now, she looked like a lot of people they’d saved: still frightened and fighting the trauma in her head. “Weird. A little sick to my stomach. Disoriented, I guess. I’ve brushed my teeth like fifty times and I can still taste that cure.”

“That’ll go away after awhile.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, meeting Becky’s gaze squarely. “I’ve been there. Managed not to feed for hours, took out a nest, held on until I got the cure.”

“Hours of that?” She squeezed her eyes shut for several seconds and opened them. “I could barely take a couple hours.”

“You held on long enough,” Sam said. “Dean and I…. We’re sort of unique in the strength of will department. We’ve had to be.”

“You did fine, Becky. Better than the average person.” Gwen sat beside her. “You’ll probably find yourself being more aware of things around you now, maybe even a little paranoid that there’s someone in your room.”

“It’s normal.” Dean crossed his arms. “But you’ve read the books. You know the things that happen.” 

Sam’s expression softened. “You have someone you can call to stay with you for awhile?”

Becky smoothed the bedspread with one hand. “Chuck, I guess. He’s the only one who knows the truth. I can talk to him -- if he’ll come. I think he thinks I want to get back together and I don’t. Not really.”

There was a knock on the door. Jo went and checked the peephole. “Speak of the devil….” She opened the door. “Let me guess. You had a vision.”

He peered past her at all of them. “Uh…no. A woman was beheaded in the parking garage across the street. I --”

“And you immediately thought of us?” Dean sat up. “Sweet, Chuck.”

“I just thought Becky should know.” Chuck stepped into the room, Jo shutting the door behind him. “Police are crawling all over the parking garage. You guys aren’t parked there, are you?”

“Nope. Baby’s safe elsewhere.” Dean stood. “How’d you know we were in Becky’s room?”

“Terri said she saw a couple women helping Becky into her room about an hour or so ago and one woman was pregnant. Far as I know, Gwen’s the only pregnant woman at the convention.” He looked around the room, obviously noting the pizza box and beer bottles. “Having a party? What’s going on?”

Gwen slowly pushed herself up out of the chair. “We should be going back to our suite.”

Jo stood as well, then pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh crapsticks! I promised Molly I’d be myself at the mixer!” She glanced down at her watch. “Chuck, is it still going on?”

“Sure is. Hey, do you have any idea why David Angle and his bodyguard would be looking for you and Dean?”

Dean let loose a half-laugh. “Yeah…. Maybe Jo and I should go down to the mixer for awhile. Put in an appearance.” He stood. “Becky can fill you in on what happened.” As he passed Chuck, he slapped him on the back, leaning in close and saying something Gwen couldn’t make out.

Chuck’s expression shifted to concern and he went to the bedside, sitting down beside Becky. “Are you okay?”

Dean shooed them into the hall and closed the door. He looked at Sam, brows raised. “You and Gwen coming with us?”

“No.” Sam shook his head, putting an arm around Gwen. “We’re going to the room and not leaving it until morning.”

“I’m tired,” Gwen confessed, leaning into the embrace. “A lot of excitement today.”

“You kids have fun, then.” Dean took Jo’s hand in his and they headed down the hall towards the elevator.

“You really tired?” Sam slid his hand along her back. “Because we never did get to have that fun night last night.”

Stretching up a hand, she swept the backs of her fingers across his cheek. “I’m game if you are.”

She hoped all of the drama for the weekend was now over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Becky readied the conference room with a pot of coffee and tray of pastries. She wasn’t sure any of it would be needed or if they’d even seen her note yet. Maybe they’d all slept in?

There was a knock on the door and Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo came in.

“Hi. Morning. Help yourselves to coffee and pastries.” She looked at Gwen’s stomach. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, I didn’t get any decaffeinated --”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Gwen eased into a chair without taking anything.

Jo poured herself coffee and took it to the end of the table. After loading up a plate and pouring a cup, Dean joined her and dug in to the food.

“Good turnovers,” he mumbled through one bite.

Sam took half a cup of coffee and sat beside Gwen across from Becky.

“I guess you’re wondering why I asked you here this morning?” Becky’s heart was beating what felt like a million miles a minute. She hadn’t expected any of them to show up, but here they were. She owed them her life. Literally. Sam had talked her down from the bloodlust, explained what her drinking any blood meant, and as Becky happened to like being human, she’d managed to hold on for a good while. It had been really, really hard. She’d been trying to drink Sam when Jo and Dean had returned.

It was a sobering thought.

I was almost a monster, she thought. I was almost a monster they’d hunt down and kill.

Not cool.

She swallowed hard. Becky had come uncomfortably close to really being a part of their lives. The wrong part.

“A little,” Gwen said. She really was pretty, Becky decided, and did look nice sitting beside Sam.

“I wanted to thank you all for saving my life last night, do something nice for you before you leave.”

“All part of the job,” Jo told her, picking a bite from one of Dean’s pastries and eating it.

“Thanks. I really owe you. I like living and the idea of drinking blood forever is just…gross.”

“It is,” Sam agreed. “Anything else you might possibly want to apologize for?”

“Yeah….” Becky glanced at Sam and quickly turned her attention to Gwen. Sam was still pissed with her about her actions and he had every right to be. He wasn’t glaring at her or anything, but she could tell he was upset with her. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I was out of line the other day. I know Sam has more to his life than the books, but it was hard to face that. It had been a long time since I’d seen him and I wasn’t expecting a wife and baby on the way. It was a shock. A big one, because I’d never expected Sam to marry. Since you’re his wife and all, you probably know why I say that, right?”

Gwen smoothed a had across her stomach. “Uh…yeah.”

After disclosing to Chuck what had happened, he’d started talking to Becky about the books, filling her in on a few things that made all of this, now, much clearer. He’d told her all about how Gwen had nearly been killed and been in a coma for weeks and how Sam had retreated into himself over it. He’d explained in detail what he knew of how Sam had felt right then. It was the details Becky had needed to begin to understand Sam and Gwen’s story.

Poor, poor Sam, nearly losing the woman he loved into Death’s waiting embrace, coping the only way he could, while danger still swirled around them all. It was heartbreaking right to the point where it had changed into happily ever after. A fairy tale that he completely needed in his life.

“Who is she, Becky?” Sam’s voice was quiet, but edged with steel.

Her cheeks flared with heat. “Your wife.”

“And?”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Thank you.”

Gwen sat forward. “You’ve been in this fandom awhile.”

Becky nodded. Gwen sounded almost interested in that. “Years. I’m one of the original chat room members and one of the first to write….” She shrugged. “Never mind.”

“To write Wincest,” Gwen supplied with a questioning lilt to her voice.

“Yeah…. You know about that?” Somehow, she hadn’t expected Gwen to know about that.

“It was mentioned. I was told yesterday that you were also one of the first to start a Sam fan club. So, you feel like you really know them. You’ve written articles, organized a convention, write stories to supplement the fandom. Writing is hard, especially fiction. You have to get in the character’s heads, keep them in-character for it to be believable.”

“I pride myself on keeping them in-character in my work. I mean, as in-character as I can using what’s in the books. A lot of people don’t, though and I think it’s a shame.”

“The entire genre isn’t in-character,” Dean mumbled half under his breath, shoving his plate away, the remains of a pastry still on it. Becky saw Jo place a hand on his arm.

Gwen shot him a quick glance. “You’re invested in them.”

“A lot of fans are.”

“You feel like they’re friends.”

“I guess.” It was the truth. She’d read the books so many times that she felt like she did know them. Where was Gwen going with this?

“But you’re also one of few who knows the truth. You know it’s all real. Hell, you faced some of that truth last night. You get that what Chuck has written has actually happened and it’s not a pretty reality. It’s hard, gritty, and thankless. It often means losing the ones we love and even pieces of ourselves. It can scar a person and make it years before he can let go of the past and focus on the future.”

She was talking about Sam specifically wasn’t she? She’d segued into Sam as the topic in a seamless manner. Becky nodded.

“Our story,” she gestured at Sam and then herself, “mine and Sam’s, may not be published, but it’s real. We worked hard to balance it all and get where we are today. We’ve had setbacks and moments where we thought we’d lost each other or were going to. You have to understand that this was a big step for Sam and for me. We didn’t make it lightly. He proposed after I woke up from having spent weeks in a coma. We didn’t even consider kids until he was certain he had every assurance that certain things wouldn’t be passed on.” She gestured at Jo and Dean now. “And we’d had ample time to watch Dean and Jo juggle hunting and parenting, so we knew it could be done personally within our lives.”

“I know.” She crossed her arms, still thinking about everything Chuck had told her and how…romantic it really was in the end. Sam really had found love and that was…it was…so totally awesome. “I do. Chuck filled in some blanks last night. I’m…. I can’t promise not to be a fan of Sam, because I am one for life. I’m a died in the wool Sam fan and that will never change.” She transferred her attention to Sam for a moment. “I love you, Sam. I do. I will always be true. There’ll never be another fandom for me. I mean it.” Uncrossing her arms, she tapped a finger on the table. “This is for life. I promise you.”

He seemed touched by that declaration, eyes widening as he swallowed hard. Even Gwen seemed touched, hand grasping Sam’s and squeezing.

She pressed a hand to her chest, turning back to Gwen. “I’m a true fan, you know. As a true fan, that means I should want him happy and I do, even if it’s, _inexplicably_ , not with me. I can let go because I can see he’s happy. He should be happy. He deserves happiness after every crappy thing he’s ever gone through, needs it like air that he breathes or…or water…. You know?”

Gwen’s lips parted.

Becky thought she heard snickers from Dean and Jo’s direction, but when she looked, both were calm, Dean taking a drink from his cup and Jo wiping at her mouth with a napkin.

“I’m just getting so psyched about this, because if Sam can find true love after his crappy life, it can happen to anyone, right? I mean, this is a man who thought that part of him had died with Jess. He’d resigned himself to being alone and now, he’s got that part back. He’s found his heart.” Becky couldn’t help herself, the words pouring out, explaining to them where she was in all of this. “I am totally blessed by knowing this way ahead of everyone else.” She made a squee noise and sat back, grinning. “Chuck explained to me about the timeline and how it’s going to be awhile before those books are released, like years. I’m stoked that I know it all ahead of everyone else. You guys trust me to know this and…a baby. Sam.” She looked at him. “You’re going to be such a good father. That baby is so lucky.” An idea hit her and she stretched out a hand towards Gwen. “I just had the best idea! Can I throw you a baby shower? I’m getting really good at planning parties and things. It’ll be so awesome --”

“No.”

“Oh.” Becky blinked. “Can I buy the baby a gift, then? I’ve got the perfect --”

“No.”

“Oh. Can I just look at baby things and pretend I bought the baby a gift?”

Gwen pushed back her chair and stood. “I gotta go….” She walked to the door and stepped out of the room.

Overcome with emotion. Had to be. She hadn’t known what to say to Becky’s offers, not really. Probably refused because she didn’t want to impose, but Becky understood.

“It’s about that time, isn’t it?” Dean got up and started towards the door, Jo following him. Neither gave her another glance.

Sam stood, held up a finger, started to speak and stopped, mouth closing. Without another word, he, too, left.

Becky’s smile returned. “That wasn’t a no,” she said and mentally began planning the absolute perfect gift.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘I Walk The Line’ is by Johnny Cash.

When the invitation had come bright and early, Gwen had held on to a chance that Becky had been changed by her experience the night before and insisted they attend the meeting. Her hope had been dashed on jagged rocks, however, then beaten a bit more for good measure, a dead horse that was now decomposing.

Sam and Dean both burst out laughing the second the elevator doors closed behind them, great big belly laughs that rang about the enclosed space.

Sometimes being eternally optimistic was terrific fodder for jokes from those she loved.

Gwen shook a finger at the door. “That woman is off her rocker.”

“May I present to you both,” Sam put his arm around her, “my wife, Pollyanna. Her optimism is so cute sometimes, like a little fuzzy kitten.”

“Not funny,” she snapped. “Did she really think she had a chance with you?”

His grin was wide. “She once said something to me about our love burning hot and fast like a sun, then broke up with me from our non-existent relationship.”

“She’s mental. Needs happiness like air? Oh my, God!”

Jo grinned at that.

Gwen shook her head. “Baby shower? Baby _gift_? No, no. We are not friends. She feels like we all are, but we’re not. She’s not getting anywhere near our baby if I have any say in it. She’s some psycho stalker who --”

With another snicker, Sam asked, “Didn’t I tell you that was how that would go, but no, you thought we should have a nice conversation with her, see what she wanted.”

“Not the point.”

“Definitely the point,” Dean muttered. “See, this,” he pointed at the elevator door, “ _that_ is our objection to fandom right there in a nutshell.”

“And she is a nut.” Gwen was starting to see the humor. Slightly.

“Lives in her own little world,” Dean confirmed.

“Look, Gwen,” Sam turned her, hands on her arms, “Becky is…Becky. Like she said, she’s my fan for life and there’s no getting away from her. Some day, she’s going to pop up again where we least expect her, with the same old schtick.”

“I will shoot her,” Gwen promised with a quick finger ‘x’ across her heart. “She memorized your smell. That is completely creepy.”

The elevator door opened and they filed out, moving back to their suite for a final meeting with Chuck before they headed for home.

“Not arguing.” Jo opened the door. “That’s a ton of creepy.”

At their door, they found not Chuck, but Marissa waiting. 

Marissa grinned and waved. “Hi, bestie!”

Bestie? Gwen hoped that word wasn’t making a comeback. She’d found it stupid when she’d first heard it and it was no less stupid now.

Jo grasped Gwen’s arm, dragging her to a stop, and looked all around them before leaning in to ask, “Is she talking to me?”

“She’s sure as hell not talking to me.” Really, Jo should have thought about the sort of impression she was making with Marissa, tolerating her following her around and all. This was the natural conclusion of that.

Marissa bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, still waving.

Dean and Sam both held up their hands with expressions of complete cluelessness.

Jo took a few steps towards her. “Marissa. Hi. What’re you doing here?”

“I’m leaving today and I realized I, like, forgot to get your number so we can keep in touch! I was packing and I thought, man, Rissa, you’re such a ditz, completely forgetting to get your new bestie’s number and all. Beth, I love that I can call you bestie! And I love having met all of you. Beth, Gwen, Keith, and Dane.”

Beth? Dane? Keith, Gwen remembered was her fault. She’d told Marissa that was Sam’s real name. But Beth and Dane? Had Jo given those names or was it Dean’s contribution?

Marissa grinned even wider. “Isn’t it great to have a bestie that, like, completely gets you? I am so lucky to have met you. I knew coming to this con was going to totally change my life. I’ve met so many new friends, like you. Cool friends, not like the people I know back home.” She pulled out a cell phone. “What’s your number? I can’t wait to get wardrobe advice for my next Jo event, like you promised last night. I’ll text you pictures --”

“Last night?” Jo blinked, frowned, then seemed to understand what Marissa meant, eyes widening. “Marissa, I was pretending. It was all in fun, like with Molly --”

“What do you think about branching out from the books? I mean, her wardrobe isn’t huge, and, like, every girl wears the same things, but you do great in other clothes, so do you think I could too? It’s, like, the whole _sort_ of look that’s important, isn’t it? The boots, the cute little jacket. And attitude. The attitude has got to, like, be there.” She glanced up, brows raising. “Number?”

Jo rattled off a number, a shell-shocked expression on her face. It was even a real number, though not to the cell phone she used all the time. It was an extra phone she had for one of her aliases.

“Ooh, do you live in South Dakota, too? That’s the area code, right?”

“Too?”

“That’s so cool! We could, like, get together and coordinate appearances! Which part do you live in?”

“Uh-huh. Um….”

“I’ll give you my number. We can exchange full addresses and email though text later.” When she made no effort to take out her phone, Marissa cleared her throat. “Beth. Phone? Number? Man, you must really be hung over this morning. You and Dane were tossing back those shots like water.”

Not enough for either to actually be hung over though.

“Right.” Jo pulled her phone from her pocket. Marissa moved in close, giving her the number, watching to make sure Jo put it in right, then having her repeat it several times.

“Great. I can’t wait, bestie! Oh my, God, we’re gonna have so much fun at the next con! Maybe we can go see ‘Route 666’ together!”

By the time Marissa finally headed on her way, Jo was looking very much like she might reach for the whiskey for lunch again. They went inside, Jo muttering all the while.

“I was pretending. I never meant any of that. Is she serious? Bestie?”

“What did you say to her last night, Jo,” Gwen asked, but Jo apparently didn’t hear her.

“That’s the most God-awful word I’ve ever heard. I’m not her bestie and never will be. If I’m anyone’s bestie, I’m Gwen’s. I am deleting that girl’s number.” Jo whirled and pointed at Dean. “You better not have paid her like you did the other one.”

“Nope. She’s just naturally that annoying.”

There was a knock on the door and Sam moved to open it.

“Good, because if I find out you --”

“Hey guys,” Chuck came in, Sam closing the door behind him. “What’s --”

“Here’s the deal.” Jo grabbed Chuck’s shirt and pulled him close. “I’ve been thinking and if you _ever_ publish the section after Castiel finds me and tells them, I’ll personally hunt you down and kill you.”

“Uh…Jo…okay, what happened,” he asked. “Ease up…strangling…”

“I won’t do it slowly, Chuck, not like Dean and Sam would. I’ll make it hurt as much as possible. In fact, I suggest you leave me and mom dead and find a way to kill off Gwen, too.”

“But…that’s not what happens. I’d have to make stuff up and that’s hard.”

“Make it happen.” She shoved him back.

“Dean, Sam, talk to her or something. Explain to her. I suck as a regular writer. I can’t do it. I have no skills for anything.”

Dean smirked. “Sure, Chuck.” He cleared his throat. “Jo, honey, calm down. It’s just a little fandom thing.”

Gwen stifled a snicker, as that was what Jo had told Dean the first few hours.

Transferring her irritated stare his way, Jo raised a hand and extended her middle finger in the classic ‘screw you’ gesture.

He shook a finger at her. “Now, now. That’s not ladylike.”

“But oh so Jo,” Sam added. He’d mellowed fast since Becky had apologized -- and they were going home.

Jo raised her other hand and shot the same gesture at Sam. “You two suck. Screw you both.”

“Didn’t we tell you?” Dean crossed his arms. “Huh?”

Her lips moved and she rolled her eyes, saying a few silent words better left silent before smiling sweetly. “You were right.”

He cupped a hand to one ear and looked around. “Everyone hear that? She says I’m right.”

“I wouldn’t push your luck,” Gwen told him.

“You were right, okay? Fandom sucks. They’re all annoying.”

“So….” Chuck raised a hand to get their attention. “We were going to talk about how far I can publish. You said I could…implied, really…not outright said earlier…. Can I go ahead and publish up to Sam getting his soul back?”

“No.” Sam shook his head, noticed Gwen watching him and sighed. “But I suppose, since it’s long past, you can publish up to where I go to hell and Dean goes to Lisa.”

Dean blinked. “He what? When did we decide that, Sam? I didn’t decide that. Who decided that? You making decisions for both of us now? We didn’t talk about that. What we talked about was him finishing this fleshing out business and stopping before getting to the apocalypse story and leaving me in hell where he already ended it.”

“What’s your problem with the apocalypse storyline and Sam in hell,” Gwen asked. “It’ll avoid the entire Sam being soulless plot, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But it’ll leave me with Lisa. I have a wife. She’s not it and if he ends it there, people will think I stayed with that crazy bitch.”

“They won’t know she’s two-faced and manipulative.” Gwen tried to smooth it over.

He squared his jaw. “Jo’s my wife, not her. He’s not leaving it there.”

“So I can publish up to when you and Jo get married?” Chuck crossed his arms, beginning to look confused. Gwen didn’t blame him. It wasn’t becoming any clearer just what he could publish.

“No.” Jo snorted. “Did you think I was kidding with the whole torture you to death thing? I’m a private investigator now, Chuck. I have even more ways to find you than I did before.”

“Leave it with Lucifer getting free,” Sam suggested with a shrug.

“That’s not the way to end the series -- in the worst possible place.” Sitting down, Gwen put her feet up. “Talk about a big downer.”

“Like Dean going to hell wasn’t a downer?”

Dean nodded. “How about instead of just Sam falling in the pit, I do, too. The end.”

Chuck shook his head. “No. That’s not what happened and fans would lynch me with that ending.”

Dropping down onto the couch beside Gwen, Dean put one foot on the table. “Personally, I’m all for the ‘Chuck stops publishing immediately’ option. Who’s with me?”

“I can’t do that,” Chuck protested. 

“Or,” Dean smiled, “how about we go with my original idea of Chuck finishing the fleshing and stopping?”

“I told you before.” Chuck groaned. “I’m under contract and if I break it, I have to return the money and I don’t have the money to return. I _have_ to get into the apocalypse storyline. It’s in the contract. The apocalypse has to happen, Dean. There have to be angels and the whole shebang.”

Jo sat beside Dean and laid an arm across his shoulders. “He ends it with Sam falling into the pit containing Lucifer and you, Dean, going to Lisa with the thought of trying to build a life somehow without Sam.”

“No.” Dean shook his head now, stubborn in what he wanted. “No. Sam came back and I left. It didn’t work with Lisa and that’s a sucky place to leave it.”

Chuck made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. “What do you want me to do here, Dean? You won’t have it one way, Jo won’t have it another, Sam won’t have it yet another and…. You got objections, Gwen?”

Jo grasped Dean’s hand. “Sweetheart, it’s a good place to leave it.”

“How,” he asked. “How is it a good place?”

“You all save the world. You two, Cas, and Bobby. Granted, Cas comes back, raises Bobby, and heals you, but you’re still heroes. Fans can imagine anything they want after that. We know the full story. All they need to know is the two men they’ve been following saved the world together in the end. It wasn’t easy or pretty, yet they were united in the end. Whatever rift had been between them was gone.”

Sam gave his consent with a nod, though he was still obviously unhappy about letting him publish anything.

“Gwen,” Dean asked.

“What?”

“What do you think?”

What did she think? She considered the question before speaking. “I think Jo makes a good point. It’ll end the book series on the importance of the family Sam and Dean as characters are to each other. I mean, from talking to some of the fans, that’s what they seem to connect with most. The family aspect.”

“You have no trouble keeping it all nice and separated in your head, do you?”

“No,” she admitted, because it had been true thus far. She thought of Chuck’s writings as fictional stories about fictional characters that just happened to coincide with reality. “Though I might not be as objective if it was me girls were following around like Jo’s had to deal with…or if Becky puts in another appearance. I was not kidding about shooting her. I will do it, so keep her away from me. Whatever Chuck does, I’m with Jo. Kill me off or something, Chuck, if you ever do publish the later books, because if you don’t, the ones who guess the truth will never leave our kids alone.”

“You mean Becky,” Chuck guessed.

“She already knows. What I mean are others like her that may become obsessed in the future. Our kids need privacy. They don’t need to grow up with the fandom all over them. The less who have any idea that we have kids the better. We, as adults, can handle this. Our kids shouldn’t have to. We don’t need Becky two-point-o trying to find our kids because they were in the books.”

He studied her a moment. “Okay. That makes total sense. Like celebrities keeping paparazzi from their kids. I’ll publish to the end of the apocalypse storyline, okay? Can I end it with a figure outside watching Dean with Lisa and Ben and the streetlight blowing out? Fans can imagine anything then. They can think Sam got free and was on his way to tell Dean or that some new creature was going to show up.”

Sam was startled by that, but didn’t say anything. Gwen wondered why. Chuck said it like it was his own embellishment to give fans hope of more.

“I guess.” Dean sounded tired of the entire subject. “I’d just as soon you stop publishing immediately, but if we have to pick a point then I suppose that one will do.”

They all agreed. The end of the apocalypse would end the book series. It would all be tied up neatly and Chuck could finish out his contract. Gwen thought Chuck would be lucky if he published that many books. She didn’t think he’d get even halfway through the apocalypse storyline, not with his sort of writing style.

“Thanks, guys. You don’t know how relieved I am by this. I’m indebted to you. Really.”

“Don’t think we’re getting soft, because we’re not,” Dean warned him. “Publish, but no more conventions.”

“I have no control over the conventions. They’re a fan thing really. You’d have to talk to Becky about that.”

Which none of them wanted to do.

“Okay. No more movies then.” Sam slid his hands in his pockets. “I don’t care how good Dave and Darrin are --”

“And that clip, I must say, was sort of, maybe, a little, tiny bit awesome,” Dean interrupted.

“No more movies.” Sam cocked his head. “Got us?”

Chuck scratched a finger along his jaw. “What about a tv series? Because this woman approached my agent and I guess there’s some small network that’s interested in the rights or something --”

“No,” Sam and Dean said together.

“Not live action, not Saturday morning cartoon.” Dean’s voice was gruff.

“Comic books?”

“No,” all four said in unison.

Chuck held up his hands. “Okay. Just asking.”

He left soon after that and they gathered their things. With a last glance about the suite, they left, too. Gwen was glad to be putting the convention behind them. While she’d enjoyed herself, one brush with this was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paused in putting their luggage in the trunk, glancing at Sam beside him. “We do the right thing by letting him continue?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “Kind of feels like the right thing, though I hate the thought of the books being published. I mean, it really would bring everything full circle, close a ton of plotlines….” He half laughed. “Man, I sound like Gwen.”

“Maybe she’s got the healthiest view of it between all of us, looking at it like it really is all just books.”

“She’s not in it though. Not yet, anyway. Not really. All she got was a small taste. It’s easy to be that way until you’re sucked in, as Jo found out.”

“Not yet? You think Chuck won’t stop?”

“I think we should keep an eye on it, make sure he doesn’t publish after that point.” He rearranged a couple items. 

Yeah, he had the feeling Chuck would publish as fast as he could and push the envelope, too. Chuck was getting bolder the longer they knew him, even like he was humoring them at times and didn’t really fear them. Sometimes, it was like he wasn’t even Chuck at all, but another person entirely. Dean thought Chuck didn’t believe they’d really hurt him. Underneath, Dean realized right then, they wouldn’t hurt him. 

Jo, however….. Jo would hurt him. Her threat wasn’t an idle one. She meant every word. 

“You know what I don’t get?” Sam glanced at him. “He publishes all these books, says they gave him a lot of money, but what happened to it? Where’s the money? He doesn’t gamble or live with any extravagance.”

“Don’t know. Maybe he’s got a hooker habit or something. They can be kind of expensive.”

Sam smacked his arm and pointed. “Look at that.”

Down the row on his left, Rose was getting into a car with Dave and his bodyguard. Dave paused before getting in himself, saluting them with two fingers. “Good for them. Go get ‘er, Dave.”

At the mixer, he and Jo had talked with Dave and Chris, assured them that Kate had been persuaded by the police to leave, and gotten contact numbers. Dave had even made noises about them visiting him when they were in town next.

Maybe Dean and Jo would take him up on it. He knew Sam wouldn’t be interested and Gwen would be bored, but maybe he and Jo could get in a vacation if they had a person to visit.

Probably not, but it was nice to think that.

Dean smiled a little and shut the trunk. “Let’s get home. Jobs won’t wait forever.”

The green lights were with them, traffic was strangely light, and the ride home went smoother than it should have for the trouble they’d dealt with. He felt peaceful about Chuck publishing the manuscripts up to the point they’d determined, though there was a tiny quiver of misgiving over Jo’s threat to Chuck.

He dismissed that quiver.

There was no way the fandom would last long enough for Chuck to reach Sam going to hell. No way at all. They were never going to have to worry about the manuscripts that came after that point.

~~~~~~~~~~

****

Epilogue, seven years later:

Chuck Shurley paced in front of his workspace. It was time to decide. Did he continue publishing or not? His investors wanted him to go on, fans kept sending him letters about the arc, half good and half bad, and his editor had gone into mourning when she’d read the ending, trying to convince him to make it happy, with Sam and Dean alive and well.

He’d gotten hate mail from Sam fans over the Sam-Ruby arc and more hate mail from Jo and Ellen fans over Abandon All Hope and knew if he continued with what he had already written that they’d change their tune. Fans were fickle that way.

But…. If he continued, Jo would kill him. He fully believed it, more so than he’d ever thought Sam and Dean would kill him. He received twice a year notes from her reminding him of that. The last one had even had a smiley at the bottom by her signature and one of the ones before had had a picture drawn by Jack of what Chuck thought was his death at Jo’s hands. It was certainly a picture of ‘mom’ killing someone or some thing (it was labeled with that word). The fact that Jo had sent it indicated that someone was him. Maybe there was a slim chance that she as just proud of that drawing, but he didn’t think so.

So what did he do?

“Guidance would be good right now,” he said to thin air, but there was no answer.

Chuck sighed.

How did he make up stories for them? He already knew he sucked at doing it himself, yet he liked living. He wasn’t going to be going back up to visit with the other prophets for awhile longer and had to live on something. Maybe he shouldn’t have kept calling Mistress Magda. Those minutes added up fast. He’d probably solely funded her early retirement. 

Would it be a bad thing to leave the manuscripts, the gospel, unpublished and branch out?

He sat and began looking through manuscripts from before Castiel found Jo. What if Sam and Dean hadn’t killed all the dragons? What if the dragons had succeeded in raising Mother? He went back earlier. What if Crowley….

Ideas swirled in his mind. Chuck didn’t think they were particularly good ideas, but they’d pacify the Winchesters if they looked at the stories. He tapped a pen against his lips and began to write.

He’d have Castiel become corrupted trying to stop Raphael, have Mother raised, maybe have Samuel, Gwen and even Rufus killed off. That’d up the stakes for Sam and Dean, right? Plus, it’d remove Gwen like she’d wanted. He’d work in Balthazar, give Ellen and Jo fans something without it being enough to piss off Jo, do a Back To The Future thing (Dean would approve of that at least), and writing all of that should give him time to come up with some sort of bad creature for them to go up against next. Something Biblical because Mother was currently languishing in Purgatory. Had to be something really nasty since they’d beaten Lucifer and stopped the apocalypse and how could he top that? Oh, and he’d resolve the Lisa and Ben plot somehow. He wasn’t good at romance, but he’d give it a try. And Sam’s memories from hell would need to be resolved.

It was a lot of plot and Chuck faltered in his outline writing, slightly daunted by the task. It was easier with visions. This writing stuff was hard. Plots didn’t just come to him. He had to really work for them and wasn’t confident he could pull it all off. 

Some of the pieces of the finished manuscripts he could use, mostly the first few. He’d have to add in a some things to make them fit his proposal.

“Interesting method of protecting them and their children.”

He gasped as Castiel’s voice, dry and slightly amused, sounded beside him. He looked up to find Castiel was reading over his shoulder. “Cas. Hey. Hi.”

“Hello.” He picked up one page of the outline, read it, and glanced at him. “You realize Meg kissed me? I never kissed her. Nor did I sit and watch porn or mention anything about a pizza man.”

“Yeah, of course, but I can make this work, Cas. See….” He shifted papers around to display his outline from the beginning. “I’ll slowly work everyone they care about out of the plot so it’s just them again --”

“By changing the characters.”

“By changing the plot. Fans talk AU all the time. If they can write it, so can I.”

Castiel set the paper down, crossed his arms, and half sat on the table. “Chuck. You’re a terrible writer. On your own, you can barely put together a single plot thread, let alone a coherent continuing storyline throughout multiple books.”

Another sigh escaped him. “I know. I hate to leave it there, though, with Sam gone and Dean a broken mess. Feels unfinished because I know it’s not finished. But I can’t write Jo and Ellen returning because Jo will kill me and I can’t write Gwen’s part in it all because I’m pretty sure she’ll kill me, too. I can’t. I believe Jo when she said she’d kill me and I don’t want Jack, Sean, and Allie to have to deal with the fans. Have you seen Jo when she’s protecting their kids? She’s scary.”

“It’s not your call to make. You were given the words for a reason. Your personal feelings can’t enter into it. Do your job.”

He neatened the stack of papers, only half listening to Castiel, thinking about an idea he’d come up with. “What do you know about Leviathans?”

“They’re mean, nasty, single-minded, and would cover the earth and destroy it if they were ever released from Purgatory.”

“So…good villain then?”

Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. “Rethink this idea, Chuck.” He disappeared.

“Sure. Thanks for the non-existent guidance as usual, Cas.” Big lot of help he’d been in the advice arena. He’d _been_ rethinking it and kept returning to the whole Jo killing him part. He was rather afraid of her.

In the background, from the radio he’d had on, came Johnny Cash’s voice. “…I keep my eyes wide open all the time. I keep the ends out for the tie that binds. Because you're mine, I walk the line…”

“I can do this,” Chuck whispered. “I’m a writer. Think of them as just characters.” 

Over the next three weeks, as he polished the outline for his new, several book arc, Abigael, Balthazar, Uzziel, and even Lachesis popped in to peruse it. Balthazar hated it because he got killed off. Honestly, Chuck didn’t think it was a big loss. Balthazar was sort of a jerk. Still, he had him going out helping the Winchesters and trying to do the right thing so he didn’t see why the angel was complaining. He got good ally points in the end. 

Abigael liked the idea of it as protection for the children, but informed him that it was her job and he shouldn’t try to do her job. He was a Prophet, not a Guardian and those were two different things. He should do his job as he’d been doing it. Publish the words he’d been given. 

Of course Chuck knew that, but she wasn’t the one Jo would kill now was she? 

Uzziel was disappointed he wasn’t even in it, nor was the big battle in heaven where Raphael was defeated, or the plans he and Castiel had implemented in heaven. He said publishing the proposed plot was a bad idea and that maybe Chuck should just use the completed manuscripts. 

And Lachesis….

She’d read it, smiled, touched his cheek, and said, “Oh, Chuck. Bad idea. Perfectly good manuscripts already written.”

Chuck wondered if he’d ever get any actual guidance that didn’t mean Jo would kill him, turned in his outline, and got started. He had a lot of solo writing to work out.

~~~~~~~~~~

God watched Chuck willfully ignore the guidance he’d sent him over and over and began to make arrangements. Did Chuck not remember Moses and Jonah? This was going to be somewhat like the Nineveh incident….


End file.
